Did you miss me, Molly Hooper?
by Sherlocked-Fangirl-x
Summary: Post His Last Vow. Moriarty is back and he never makes the same mistake twice. Molly Hooper is in definite danger. Sherlock takes it upon himself to keep his pathologist safe.
1. Chapter 1 - A Face from the Past

Charles Augustus Magnussen...That rings a bell, Molly thought as she sat in the back seat of a taxi, catching a glimpse of the morning paper from a stall on the street outside. She looked at his long stern face on the front of the newspaper, his silver spectacles and grey cold eyes. He didn't seem like a particularly nice character. He had been in the papers and on the news for weeks, Molly remembered, he owned some big league newspaper. Molly yawned quietly as the cab turned a corner down onto Newgate street, she hadn't really had time to catch up on the news, she had been very busy. She took out a few paracetamol from her handbag and knocked them back. She had a pounding headache and had little sleep the night before, her eyes were heavy with fatigue, she rubbed them in a failed attempt to wake herself up, but it made her want to close them and huddle up on the back seats of the cab and sleep for days instead. She checked her watch, it was almost 8am, she was usually fine with early mornings, but today was a rare exception, Molly had spent the night out with friends, ringing in the new year in style! Or so she thought, in reality ended up spending most of the night throwing up. It was about three by the time she got home and went to bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the cab's side mirror, she looked ghastly, with large bags under her eyes and her hair piled quite untidily in a loose ponytail, she looked away quickly, grimacing from her reflection.

The cab pulled up at St Bart's a few moments later, Molly slid out of the back seat, almost forgetting to pay the cabbie. "Happy new year" He grunted as he took the money. Molly nodded and looked up at the cold, grey building. Full with patients and doctors. Molly had worked all christmas in Bart's, which made her feel more alone than usual, as everyone else was celebrating and relaxing, she was examining bodies and writing reports, just as she does on every other day of the year. Molly heaved a long sigh and walked up the steps to the front entrance of the hospital. Despite it all, Molly loved her job, she just wished she had a happy, handsome face to return to when she was finished for the day, someone who'd cook christmas dinner and surprise her when she'd get home...someone who'd...Molly stopped herself, she didn't want to wallow in self pity.

The morgue was bitterly cold when Molly entered, her breath was steam and her hands shook slightly as she pulled out her first body of the day, it was an elderly man, with grey hair. He wore a dead calm expression, cold and still, the same as every dead body she'd see on a daily basis. Molly looked down at the old man for a few seconds before snapping out of her tired, early morning daze and looking at her list for the day, a few bodies had been delivered into the morgue during the night, so Molly's list was jam packed. Molly felt quite morbid while looking at the list, the thought of dying around christmas time made her feel even worse. Molly continued to look at the list, she learned that the old man was named Brian and that he was 89 years old. She glanced at his face, He looked kind. Molly sighed and white steam filled the air, she rubbed her hands together in a failed effort to warm herself up before continuing with her work, her small hands continued to shake slightly.

Time seemed to pass slower than usual, Molly found herself glancing at her watch constantly. It was only ten thirty, she felt absolutely exhausted, but she continued her work. The old man, she concluded, had died of lung cancer, that he had been suffering with for quite some time. She walked over to her desk, pulled off her gloves and filled in a few pages of paperwork. She sighed quietly and sipped the coffee that she bought when she arrived, it was freezing. She grimaced as the cold liquid touched her lips, she threw the cup into the bin in disgust, there was nothing worse than cold coffee.

Around 12, while Molly was examining the third body of the day, her phone came to life, her loud ringtone filling the quiet morgue and causing her to jump back and gasp loudly, her heart jumped into her chest as she grabbed the phone and ceased the loud, annoying tone.

"Hu..Hello"She said, panting quietly.

"Hey Moll, Happy New Year! You alright? Out late last night?"It was her brother Ben, using his usual chirpy tone, she could hear nieces and nephew shouting in the background.

"Yeah, I had a great night, don't remember much of it though. How are you all? You sound very busy." Molly said, smiling. It was nice to hear his voice, she had begun to feel quite crazy after three hours of dead silence.

"The usual, you sure you can't join us for lunch today?"Ben asked.

"I'm working, but I'll be over later in the afternoon, save me some food though, i'll be starving!" She replied.

"I'll try my best, but you know this lot, they're savages" He replied, Molly laughed.

"Ok, well try anyway"

"I will, I hope you have a good afternoon anyway Molls and we'll see you later" He responded.

"Bye Ben" Molly hung up, still smiling. It was always nice to see Ben and Jane and the kids, especially around christmas, the kids are always so excited, playing with their christmas presents. Molly always wanted kids, it was a dream of hers to find the right man and start a family. She was so close with Tom...she shook the thought out of her head sternly. Tom was gone and she was not going to think about him.

Suddenly Molly's mind wandered to Sherlock, she didn't know why exactly, but she couldn't help it. She missed him a lot, it had been quite some time since she last saw him, it was when John and Mary brought him in to be checked for drug use. Molly shook her head and sighed as she remembered the state he was in, it scared her to bits. She could still feel his stubbly skin beneath her fingers when she slapped him, she could still see his emotionless expression, his foggy eyes. Molly had never felt so disappointed in him.

"How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with and how dare you betray the love of your friends."

She hadn't seen him since, not a text, no demands to see a body or for her to smuggle some body parts for experiments. Nothing. Molly suddenly felt a cold wave of shame fill her body but she brushed it off "He deserved it, he had what was coming to him"He deserved to be told off. But she still missed him. Molly's phone was sitting on her desk, after some self deliberation, she decided to send a text. It read.

Happy New Year Sherlock. - MH

It took her a while to press send, She spend a few moments debating it in her head but at last she decided that she was going to make amens, because god knows, he wasn't going to. 'Message sent'

Molly finished around 3, she pulled away her last body of the day and finished up some paper work for about half an hour. Sherlock hadn't replied yet, but she wasn't very phased by that, sometimes it took him days to reply.

She decided to turn her thoughts towards christmas, she had to admit that she was very excited about going to Ben and Jane's and seeing the kids. She needed to pull away from work and get to the things that truly matter. "Christmas time is about family"she said to herself, her father used to say that. Molly felt a wave of sadness but shook it off. "He wouldn't want me to be upset..."She said to herself, concealing her tears.

Molly turned off the lights in the morgue and started to walk to the locker room. Suddenly the TV flicked on in front of her, she gasped as Jim Moriarty appeared in front of her, staring at her with his piercing brown eyes and a patronizing expression. Molly couldn't believe her eyes, fear filled her body, she wanted to scream and run but she was stuck, staring at him..as if she was hypnotized.

"Did you miss me?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Did you miss me?"

Suddenly Molly's phone beeped in her pocket, it gave her a shock and it took her a while to be able to pull the phone out, he hands were shaking so much in disbelief and horror. Moriarty continued to speak.

"Did you miss me?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Did you miss me?"

Molly opened the text.

Did you miss me Molly Hooper?

Molly stared at the text in horror, she gasped loudly."no"She said to herself, fear filling her little, quiet voice.

Her phone bleeped again, she opened the message, in terror of what she might read next.

Happy New Year Molly Hooper - SH


	2. Chapter 2 - Baker St, if convenient

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, Sherlock thought as he stared at Moriarty on the small tv screen of Mycroft's car. John and Mary stood behind him looking at the screen in shock, John put his arm around Mary protectively. After a few moments watching the screen, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, Sherlock turned to them, with a look they had never seen him wear before, pure confusion.

"Whats going on Sherlock?" John asked, looking at him expectantly. "It can't be true, he died on St Barts rooftop."

"Well so did I...officially" Sherlock responded after a moment.

"What are you saying? That he is back?" Mary asked.

"I don't know" Sherlock responded. "But if he is back. We're all in great danger"

Sherlock walked over to John and Mary's car and got into the back seat. Mary and John got into the front, they both looked back at Sherlock, speechless and expectant.

"Baker Street, at once if convenient" Sherlock said, looking out the window. The journey back to Baker St was quiet. Sherlock thought about John, about Mary and Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and Molly.

Happy New Year Molly Hooper

He remembered texting her just as the plane lifted off the runway, heading for eastern Europe. He thought it would be the last thing he ever said to her. He couldn't even manage to say goodbye.

He was relieved, to say the least, to not have to say goodbye after all, to Molly or to anyone. 'England needs you' Mycroft had said. He looked out the windows at the busy streets and the london skyline. England was his home and if it needed him, he knew he would do anything to protect it.

"What are you going to do?" John said suddenly, turning around to look at his best friend. Sherlock continued to look out the window, lost in his own thoughts. "Well what ever it is Sherlock, I'm coming with you"

"What...No!" Sherlock said sternly, turning to John.

"Let me guess, it could be dangerous" John said mockingly.

"It could!"

"Sherlock!" John said angrily.

"You are going to stay and protect your family. If Moriarty is back, they are who you should be with. Mary and Sherlock" Sherlock said.

"For the last time, we're not naming our child after you!" John shouted, losing his temper.

"Calm down boys" Mary said. "Sherlock is right John. The best place for you is with us"

John went silent for a moment. "I'm only a phone call away Sherlock. Keep us updated" He said quietly.

"I promise I will John, and I'll tell Mycroft to increase your security, just stay out of trouble" Sherlock said as the car pulled up to Baker St. As Sherlock jumped out, Mary opened the window.

"Please keep yourself safe Sherlock" Mary said. Sherlock nodded and smiled. Sherlock watched as they drove down Baker St. He noticed a homeless man lying on the pavement, with long dreadlocked hair, wearing tattered clothes with a small jack russell on his lap. Sherlock took out a twenty from his pocket and a little sheet of paper, on which he wrote:

Eyes & Ears.

Jim Moriarty, back from the dead?

He folded up the note in the twenty and handed it to the man. He took it graciously. Sherlock then turned, expressionless and headed back to 221b.

As Sherlock entered, a flash of purple and red whizzed in front of him, it was Mrs Hudson, she fell into his arms in shock and fear.

"Oh Sherlock! He's back! I don't know how! I don't know! Oh Sherlock...! I saw him on the television...!" She wailed against his chest as she held him, as he put his arms around her in an awkward effort to soothe her, she wailed louder.

"Mrs Hudson. I know, It will be fine. I promise" Sherlock said, trying to sound calm.

"Oh my boy, what are we going to do?" She sighed, her crying had stopped but she was still gasping, she looked up at him, fear filling her pale face.

"I think it would be best if you'd stay with your sister for a bit Mrs Hudson. I'll get someone to keep an eye on you, okay?" He said calmly.

"Alright, but you have to keep yourself safe alright?" She said, hugging him again.

"I will Mrs. Hudson. Don't be worrying about me" He said patting her back. He walked her back down the hallway to her flat.

"Would you like a cup of tea Sherlock?" She asked, smiling weakly, but a look of shock still etched on her face.

"No thank you Mrs. Hudson." He relied, smiling back.

"I'd better go call my sister then. Good night Sherlock"

"Good night" Sherlock said.

Sherlock made his way up to his flat, scared that he'd find Moriarty waiting for him with the kettle boiling eating an apple, but he wasn't. Who knows what he had planned for England; murders, bombs, kidnappings and who knows where he was hiding, Sherlock was dreading finding out. But whatever he had planned and wherever he was hiding, Sherlock was determined to bring him down, once and for all. As Sherlock walked across the living room staring at John's empty armchair, Sherlock knew that for the second time he would have to face Moriarty alone, that was how he preferred it. Alone protects people.

"No friends protect people" John's voice echoed around his head.

He had never felt so alone, than in that moment sitting in his chair, with his head in his hands. Alone in 221b once more.


	3. Chapter 3 - Molly's fear

"Have you seen it? That guy on the tv? He's everywhere apparently, it's being broadcast all over the country." Ben said as soon as he answered the phone, not waiting for Molly to say hello. Ben had a sense of panic that she had never heard in his voice before.

"Yeah, I've seen it." Molly responded quietly.

"Isn't he that guy who tried to steal the crown jewels?" Ben asked, his voice belting down the phone. Molly went silent for a moment before responding.

"Yeah, I think he is. Look Ben, uh, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it later after all. Something came up and…"

"What do you mean you can't make it?" Ben asked, sounding disappointed, there was a short moment of silence. "Don't be getting yourself into trouble now Moll"

"Trouble? What are you on about?" Molly asked sternly.

"Well, wasn't there that whole thing about that Sherlock Holmes guy…your friend Sherlock…" He began.

"It's not about that Ben, I just don't feel up to coming over today, okay?" Molly said, unintentionally sounding rather harsh.

"Moll just listen, if that Sherlock Holmes tries to drag you into danger, he has me to deal with!" Ben said loudly.

"You don't know him Ben, he would never put any of his friends in danger...intentionally" Molly stammered.

"That's it, you're coming to stay with Jane and I for a while." Ben said loudly, sounding more and more like their mother.

"No, Ben, I'm not a child anymore...I can take care of myself, goodbye" Molly hung up and instantly regretted her abruptness. She always felt that he treated her like a child. Molly was now standing alone in the locker room, no familiar voice in her ear, just Moriarty. She had turned down the volume on the television before calling Ben, but now his voice sounded more like a whisper, an evil whisper, it made her more frightened than before. She crossed the room and turned off the television completely. The room was silent. Molly walked back into the morgue the way she came.

Molly remembered the day Moriarty died as if it were yesterday and she was sure she would remember it for the rest of her life. She remembered the helplessness of Sherlock's voice:

"I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am"

She remembered watching from a window as he plummeted off the roof, she remembered the heartbreak of watching John not wanting to leave Sherlock's side as he lay on the pavement, she remembered when Sherlock's body was wheeled into the morgue and how for a split second as he lay there, motionless, she had thought he was dead, really dead. It was the most terrifying moment in her life. She remembered Moriarty being wheeled in sometime later, his eyes open and a bullet hole in the roof of his mouth, he was most definitely dead. She remembered after Sherlock had been evacuated secretly from the hospital, she then went back inside to examine Moriarty, but was stopped in the doorway by the pathology supervisor, Mr Huggins.

"You have had a rough day Miss Hooper, I'm very sorry about your friend." Mr. Huggins had said. "How about you take the rest of the day off"

Molly had been every grateful to Mr. Huggins for not permitting her to examine Moriarty's body. As he was placed in the slab in front of her, his open eyes seemed to watch her as she walked out.

Molly hadn't seen Mr Huggins since. Molly hit her head in stupidity. How could she have let him be examined by someone else? How could she have been so stupid!? Molly opened the cabinet, muttering to herself in self annoyance.

"How could you be so stupid!?"

Molly searched through the cabinet, flicking past hundreds of post mortem papers per second, until she found it:

Jim Moriarty.

Age: 35

The writing was hard to read but after sometime Molly deciphered that read that Moriarty had died from a bullet in the roof of his mouth. The bullet then wedged itself in the brain.

Dead on impact.

Molly shook her head in disbelief, it just didn't make sense. The examination, according to the paperwork, took the pathologist two hours to complete. A pathologist by the name of Stephen Gibley. She didn't recognise the name, she doubted that he even worked at Barts. He was most definitely one of Moriarty's criminals. She hit her head again in annoyance of her stupidity.

Suddenly Molly's phone came alive in her pocket, her annoying ringtone filled the morgue and caused her to jump back once again in shock. She really needed to change that ringtone.

"Hello" Molly said, as casually as she could manage.

"Didn't your mommy teach you not to snoop Miss Hooper?" Responded a familiar, cold voice.

"This is n-not possible" Molly stammered.

"D-Did you miss me?" Moriarty responded mockingly.

"What do you want?" Molly demanded.

"Maybe you should go to Ben's for dinner Moll, he's going to miss you." Moriarty said in a casual tone.

Molly was speechless, there was a short, cold silence. Molly couldn't respond, How did he know about Ben?

"Just don't go snooping around honey, you'll regret it." He said dramatically before hanging up. Molly's hands were shaking in shock as she lowered the phone from her ear. Her heart was beating extra hard against her chest. Molly took her phone in her shaking hands and dialled Ben's number, it took him a few rings, but to Molly's relief, he picked up.

"Hey Moll, you alright?" He asked, concerned.

"Yeah...y-yes..I'm fine. I was just calling to see if you were ok." Molly said in relief.

"Well, we're all fine..You sound odd? Are you sure you're alright." Ben asked.

"I am, I am. Don't worry." Molly said, trying to sound casual.

"Ok well, we're eating our dinner so I have to let you go.."

"Ben..." Molly interrupted. "Promise me you'll be careful...I mean, if this guy is back, you could be in danger."

Ben was silent for a short moment. "We'll be fine, all I'm thinking about it you, maybe you should stay with a friend or something?" Ben suggested.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Thanks. Bye Big Ben" Molly said and hung up. Molly put her phone down on the desk and sighed in relief, but tears began to form in her eyes, she didn't know what she would do if anything happened to Ben or his family.

"Is everything ok?" Came a loud, familiar voice from behind her, making Molly jump and almost trip over the morgue slab.

Sherlock stood looking at her from the doorway.

"S-Sherlock, I'm sorry I didn't hear you come in." Molly smiled weakly, but she looked worn out. Her hair was a mess and her lab coat was falling off her shoulders. Sherlock looked at her with concern.

"Is everything ok?" He repeated quietly. Molly rarely ever heard him speak so compassionately, she stood mesmerised by a second before answering.

"Yeah I'm..." She began but his expression looked doubtful. "You can always see right through me Sherlock." She sighed and sat down. She tried to control the tears in her eyes but she couldn't. Molly held her face in her hands as she wept, she knew how crying made Sherlock awkward.

"I'm...s-sorry S-sherlock..it's just been a crazy day..." Molly looked up and noticed that he was right beside her. He was so lithe the way he moved, she hadn't heard him. She looked up into his eyes "He's back Sherlock."

"I know" He said looking down at her. "He is back"

"He called me" Molly said desperately, starting to cry again. "I've never been so frightened in my life."

"What did he say...Molly..did he threaten you?" Sherlock demanded, looking at her in fear.

"He...he told me to stop snooping! He's watching me Sherlock..he's everywhere" She put her face back into her hands and cried suddenly. She felt a hand on her shoulder, soothing her.

"Molly. I wanted to ask you if you would like to.." He began

Have dinner..Molly thought to herself.

"Come and live with me for a while...it's obvious that you need protection.." Sherlock said patting her back.

"What?" Molly said, dumbfounded.

"Oh don't go taking it the wrong way Molly" He began, then realising his rudeness, continued in a softer, gentler voice "You're in danger, Molly. It's better that you're not alone." He said. She looked up at him gratefully. She stood up and looked into his eyes.

"Thank you Sherlock" She said, smiling weakly. They turned to leave, Molly stopped and turned to Sherlock.

"But how is Moriarty back?"

"That's what I need to find out." Sherlock responded, he looked down at her again. His voice was full of determination but his eyes said different, Molly noticed, he looked scared. It almost mirrored when he came to ask for help two years before. His absolute helplessness. Molly felt unnerved by his hidden fear.

"I'm going to help you find him Sherlock" She said stubbornly. "I'm not just spending all day in Baker Street like some dog that you come home to and feed."

"I don't cook" He said bluntly, he then turned and Molly and smiled."But I get what your saying Molly. And truthfully, I don't see anyone I'd rather have beside me."


	4. Chapter 4 - I Owe You

It had been three days since Molly had taken up residence in 221b Baker St, she had brought some of her belongings with her that we're now strewn around the already messy living room; DVD's, her pink laptop, books. One of these belongings, to much of Sherlock's distaste was her ginger cat Toby. Toby seemed to make himself at home from the first moment he entered 221b, lazily nestling into the two armchairs and constantly jumping on the kitchen counters looking for a nibble. Molly would constantly tell Sherlock to tidy away his experiments in fear that Toby would consume some lethal chemical. That was the main reason Sherlock wasn't fond of Toby, because as a result his experiments had been banished from the kitchen and had to be moved to his bedroom. Sherlock felt that he was a teenager again, concocting experiments in his room, in fear of being caught by his mother.

Other than that, Sherlock couldn't think of many other disadvantages of having Molly for a flat mate. She was neat, enough, a good cook, quiet and she never distracted him when he was in his mind palace, she'd always come when he'd call and she always knew what to say and in addition, she let him smoke, more or less, she would have one or two words of protest, but nothing Sherlock couldn't silence with a smile or a compliment. It seemed, With her around, things were starting to look a bit better.

There had been no word of Moriarty since the call in the morgue and for that Sherlock was becoming increasingly suspicious. Who knows what he was planning. He could sense that Molly was on edge, constantly checking her phone but she was trying to cover it up.

"You can always see right through me Sherlock"

Yes, he agreed, yes he could. Molly was currently sitting on his armchair watching some crap television show, he didn't know what it was called, but she watched it quite often. It was starting to give him a headache. Toby was sitting on her knee purring, half asleep. Sherlock wondered how that poor cat must stand watching that show everyday with Molly. He walked over to the sofa and lay across it, he then closed his eyes and placed his hands under his chin, in his usual prayer like stance. He stayed like that for some time, Molly had gotten through at least four episodes of Glee by the time he opened his eyes.

"Sherlock?" She said gently.

"Mmmm"

"What are you thinking about?" She said, cringing at the cheesiness of the question.

"Moriarty's moment of silence has ended." Sherlock replied, jumping up from the sofa in one elegant move. Toby jumped from her knee, startled. Molly stared up at Sherlock with a confused expression. Suddenly the sound of sirens came from the street below. "There's been a murder."

"What?" Molly replied.

Suddenly Greg Lestrade was at the door. He looked in and was surprised to see Molly sitting on Sherlock's chair.

"Is Sherlock around?" He asked with a confused look.

"I'm here Graham" Sherlock said, catching Lestrade's attention.

"It's...nevermind, I didn't see you there." Lestade responded.

"Where?" Sherlock asked in monotone. "Where's the body?"

"I wish there was just one." Lestrade said, looking at Molly who was now putting on her coat. He looked at Sherlock quizzingly and back at Molly.

"New flatshare?" Lestrade whispered to Sherlock as he glided out the door past him.

"It would look like it." Sherlock replied as he decended the stairs.

The address Lestrade had given them took them all the way across to Grays Quay, in the east end, on the edge of the River Thames. Along the quay were several long barges and fishing boats, old and disused. As cabbie pulled up at the quay, Sherlock jumped out and re-adjusted his coat. The cold January air hitting his face, he pulled his coat collar up for warmth. Molly paid the cabbie and got out of the taxi and shivered silently with the cold.

"Is this the crime scene?" She asked Sherlock, but he wasn't listening, he was looking out onto the river, lost in thought. Suddenly, Lestrade appeared from within one of the barges.

"Oi, Sherlock over here." He called. Sherlock and Molly approached the giant barge, it was definitely newer than the others, with a fresh coat of paint. Sherlock deduced that it was probably about five years old, while the others were about ten. Sherlock jumped onto the deck from the quay and then stopped to give Molly a hand across. Lestrade watched him in surprise and confusion.

"Right in here" Lestrade said as he lead them through a small wooden door. The inside of the barge was similar to the outside, fresh paint, neat. Except for the twenty or so corpses that were laid all over the floor, covering from wall to wall, like a human carpet. Molly gasped as she looked upon the horrible sight. The bodies lay in a pool of blood, it looked as though they were stabbed. Molly knew that the only way to find out exactly how they died was to examine them all individually, but she couldn't move. She was rooted to the spot, staring in pure horror.

"Twenty one bodies, ten male, eleven female" Lestrade said glumly. "twelve adults, six teenagers, three children" Molly's face went as white as a sheet. Sherlock stared blankly at the crime scene, trying to take it all in. He noticed something in the middle of the room, one of the corpses had something in it's hand, he walked over a few bodies to reach the middle.

"Be careful Sherlock." Molly muttered quietly. Lestrade watched at Sherlock expectantly "Please tell me you can find the man behind this"

Sherlock looked at Lestrade with hatred and anger blazing in his piercing blue eyes as he held up the item from the victim's hand: a bright red apple. "I think we both know who's behind this Greg" He said.

"I owe you" Molly whispered in horror.

"That's not possible Sherlock..." Lestrade began looking from Sherlock to Molly.

"He is back" Molly chirped, sounding shocked and weak.

Sherlock strided back across the room, taking care for the bodies, he then put his arm around her and began to escort her out.

"No, Sherlock, I'll be fine..."Molly began

"It's alright Molly, I've got all that I need..I think it's quite clear what the message is" Sherlock said quietly, his voice full of hatred.

As they were sitting back in the taxi returning home to Baker St, they both were very quiet, looking out the windows at the city streets. It was raining now, a cold January rain. Molly couldn't get the image of those bodies out of her head, even though she had spent the last seven years working as a pathologist, spending her days examining bodies, she had never felt more disturbed than she did today. The image of them laying in there cold, putrid blood sickened her beyond comprehension. Molly sniffed quietly as she stared out the window. Sherlock turned and looked at her. He couldn't help notice how absolutely dispirited she looked. He couldn't stand seeing her like this.

"Molly?"

"Mmm" She turned to him, he noticed how pale she had become.

"I was thinking maybe we could go to that fish and chips place I mentioned a while ago" He said apprehensively. She smiled back weakly.

"I would love that Sherlock" She responded, he smiled at her delicately and she couldn't help but blush at the sincerity of that smile.


	5. Chapter 5 - Eyes and Ears

Laying face down on an old, lumpy mattress Bill Wiggins had absolute no clue where he was, he closed his eyes allowing himself to fall back into darkness and comfort as he realised that he didn't actually give a toss. The room was warm and he could hear the muffled sounds of low, tired chatter around him. As the scent of marijuana filled his lungs, he remembered where he was. He smiled weakly inhaling the fumes, calming his body once more, he felt himself being pulled back down into nothingness, where nobody bothered you.

"Oi Wiggy" Came a voice from behind him. Bill's eyes flicked open, but the rest of his body wasn't as responsive. With some effort he managed to sit up, surveying the room for the source of the voice. Suddenly, a small jack russel ran across the room towards Bill. Bill watched it tiredly as it jumped over a few sleeping junkies. The dog then stopped in front of him with it's small tail wagging to and fro.

"I don't have food if that's what you want" Bill mumbled. The dog began to lick his bare feet.

"Got a message, from Holmes" The voice from the door said. Bill looked up as he stroked the dogs fur. The man walked in, he was wearing old scrappy clothes and had a head full of dreadlocks. He walked across the room and handed Bill a small sheet.

Eyes & Ears

Jim Moriarty back from the dead?

"That's not possible" Bill said, attempting to stand up but failing miserably, falling back on the mattress. The dog barked at him happily.

"Apparently so" The man responded. "He was all over the TV, didn't you see it?"The man said.

"TV? No..do you think I own a TV?" Bill said, finally managing to stand up. His stomach was making back flips.

"Newspapers then? He's everywhere man" The man said, losing patience.

"Right...right..well I've been very busy" Bill said as the man looked at him accusingly. "Oh and you're clean are ya?" The man shrugged in response. Bill clumsily manoeuvred around the twenty or so sleeping junkies to get the door. Suddenly his ten year old nokia mobile chirped in his pocket. He pulled it out clumsily, almost dropping the old thing on the dirty wooden floor. He looked at it, his eyes struggling to focus.

Need to talk - SH

"Right" He said to himself as he looked down at the jack russel, who had followed him across the room and was now looking up at him with big brown eyes. "I'd better get back to work" He mumbled, petting the small dog. He then turned to the man, who watched him with a blank expression.

"Haven't seen you around before" Bill said, looking at him quizzingly.

"Well I've been here, you just haven't seen me" The man responded.

"Well aren't you very mysterious" Bill responded sarcastically as he walked out the door, almost tripping over the threshold.

It took Bill a good hour to walk to Baker St, it was another freezing early January day and he could feel it's chill through his tattered coat. He would have taken a taxi but he had spent all his money the night before on weed and beer. He knew he reeked of it, but he couldn't care less. As he approached 221b, Bill attempted to tidy himself up, smoothing his coat down and neatening his hair, but he knew he still looked a mess. He knocked the knocker a few times and stood back, rubbing his hands together for warmth. A few minutes later, the door opened. Bill was surprised when the young woman from the morgue answered the door, Molly, he remembered her name was.

"Uh, Hello" She said, looking him up and down, trying to sound polite.

"Hi..Sherlock's expecting me..I'm Bill Wiggins.." He began

"I remember you" She said, smiling sweetly. "Come on in Bill"

"Thanks" He said as he entered, Molly could smell the beer off him and the weed too, but she didn't judge. Bill stood in the landing for a moment, rejoicing in the warmth, before following Molly upstairs.

Bill couldn't help but giggle at the sight that beheld him as he reached the living room. Sherlock was lying on the couch, his eyes closed and his hands in the usual prayer like stance, but there was a large, fat ginger cat fast asleep on his chest. Molly smiled at Sherlock before turning to Bill. "Tea?" She asked, but realising Bill's amused expression, she added "Sherlock wasn't very fond of him at first, but I think he's beginning to get used to him." She laughed. "They make quite a pair"

"Molly" Sherlock grunted from the couch, she was embarrassing him.

"Sorry Sherlock" She giggled.

"I'd love some tea" Bill said, amused by there little domestic arrangement. She went to the kitchen. "You texted, Sherlock"

Sherlock jumped up from the couch, Toby jumped off him in shock, hissing. "Yes, coffee for me Molly" He called, she made a sarcastic 'as if' noise from the kitchen. He smiled to himself. "I did text you Bill, you've probably heard about our situation" Sherlock said, more seriously.

"I actually hadn't heard, when did she move in?" Bill asked.

"No, what? Not about Molly. About Moriarty, he's back Bill." Sherlock said impatiently.

"Yeah, I heard" Bill muttered earnestly.

"As the leader of my homeless network, I have a few things I need you to do for me" Sherlock said, Bill nodded in response. "It's quite possible that Moriarty is hiding in the shadows, I need you to get some people stationed all around the city, as surveillance, on old buildings, disused factories... anywhere he could be hiding"

Molly re-entered with a cup of tea for Bill and a mug of coffee for Sherlock, before sitting down on John's old armchair sipping her own tea.

"Alright" Bill replied after thanking Molly for the tea. "Alright I'll get right on it Shezza" He gulped down his scalding tea, hurting his throat, before turned towards the door. Sherlock cringed as he remembered his nickname, Molly giggled silently to herself.

"Oh and Bill" Sherlock said, Bill turned around. "Be careful, all of you. He is different than before, less..predictable"

Bill nodded, Molly noticed a hint of fear in his eye. She looked at Sherlock and then to Bill "Keep us posted" She said smiling at Bill. He nodded in response before descending down the stairs of 221b and back out into the cold January air.


	6. Chapter 6 - His Strength

The smell of stale beer and smoke hung in the air long after Bill Wiggins had left. Molly was in the kitchen, giving Toby his mid afternoon feed. She knew that she shouldn't feed him as much as she does, it probably was the reason poor Toby was gaining a lot of weight recently. She stroked his fur affectionately as he tucked into his second meal of the day, purring graciously. Molly walked across the kitchen and opened the fridge. Since she moved in, Molly had cleaned out the refrigerator, while doing so she had found some mouldy severed fingers and eyeballs, it took Sherlock about an hour to allow her to throw them away. It took a promise of fresher ones from the morgue to finally talk some sense into him. She smiled at the memory, taking out a carton of milk.

Presently, Sherlock was sitting in the living room, on his armchair with Molly's pink laptop on his knee. She smiled to herself at the peculiar sight, she watched as he looked at the screen, engrossed in whatever he was currently reading, she noticed how his eyes seemed to gleam and how his cheekbones looked so defined by the bright light of the screen, she watched as his large fingers danced across the keys so elegantly. He was always an enigma, so incomprehensible to Molly. But it seemed, bit by bit he was starting to unravel, revealing himself to her, luring her into his perilous life and she wasn't resisting.

It had been a week since Moriarty last made contact with him, Sherlock was beginning to grow impatient. He didn't like Moriarty's silence, it was making him anxious, what was he planning? The memory of the last crime scene was still stuck in his mind, it was unlike anything he had ever seen. The absolute obscenity of the whole thing made him sick. Sherlock looked down at the laptop screen, searching through different sites about mass murder in history. He knew something seemed familiar when he was at the crime scene the other day, the barge, the stabbed victims, a mixture of age brackets...

"Molly" He said suddenly, snapping her out of her daze. He turned to her, with a sombre expression. "He's duplicating past murders..." Molly walked over to him and looked over his shoulder at the webpage. He couldn't help but notice the fragrance of strawberry from her hair.

"12th of April" Molly read. "That was the date...the date the bodies were found in the barge, three days ago"

"I think we've just uncovered Moriarty's new game" Sherlock said, hatred in his voice.

"Why does he do this Sherlock?" Molly asked, quite innocently.

"He likes watching me dance" Sherlock said, his voice full of loathing as he opened up a new tab on Molly's computer.

The Science of Deduction

"Your blog?" Molly said, confused.

Sherlock didn't respond, he was too busy typing in a new entry.

12th April 1958, Brighton Barge mass murder.

"Sherlock..?" Molly began.

"The game is back on Molly" He looked at her, she was still over his shoulder looking down at him with a bewildered expression. Suddenly Sherlock's phone blared from the desk beside them. It was an unknown number. Sherlock stood up swiftly and picked up the phone.

"This is the new game is it Jim, duplication? Bit outside your taste. And there I was thinking you were so original" Sherlock blared down the phone mockingly.

"Ouchie, Sherlock, that really hurt!" Moriarty replied in his sarcastic childlike voice. "Well I see you've figured out my new game"

"What are you planning?" Sherlock demanded. Molly was standing beside him, watching him with her face filled with dread.

"Oh Sherlock...it's just a silly little game, just play along" He giggled smugly down the phone. "Lets just say, I'm making my comeback. Did you have fun by the way, dismantelling my criminal network? I found it quite entertaining to watch. That big finish in Serbia, bravo!"

"You were dead.." Sherlock began.

"And so were you" He said. "But look at us now. I can't wait for you to see what I have planned for tomorrow, you'll be very impressed"

"And by 'impressed'.." Sherlock began

"I actually mean extremely repulsed, yes Oh look at us finishing each others sentences" He giggled. "Oh. Before you hang up brashly Sherlock, I'd like to ask, How is it living with mousy Molly Hooper? I gave her quite a scare a few days ago, it was quite funny"

Sherlock walked into the kitchen, Molly watched anxiously. "If you try anything Moriarty...if you touch her" He whispered, snarling.

"Oh, shhh now Sherlock, all in good time" Moriarty growled back, before hanging up.

Sherlock threw the phone down in anger, yelling as he fell to his knees in defeat. Molly ran into the kitchen in shock and put a hand around his shoulder comfortingly. He put his hand on her arm. Molly felt him panting with rage.

"He's playing...a game...I never asked to play" Sherlock said, weakly. "I don't know how much more I can take Molly. He uses my friends against me like some hideous weapon"

"We have to be stronger than him Sherlock, we can't let him control us" Molly said, her voice steady with determination. Sherlock looked at her. How was it possible for Molly Hooper, quiet, timid Molly Hooper, to have this much strength? He saw that she was stronger than him, mentally, in that moment. It made her beautiful, even more beautiful than she already was. He looked into her hazel brown eyes, was it possible that he was developing feelings for Molly Hooper, the pathologist.._his_ pathologist? '

Is he going to..' Molly thought in disbelief.

Sherlock leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Molly blushed, the moment she had always been waiting for, that she wished and dreamed for many years was finally happening. Sherlock put his hands on her head, pulling her in closer, tasting her and savouring every sensation of the kiss. After about half a minute, they pulled apart, there eyes fixed on each other. Molly smiled and looked down, he tilted her chin up with his fingers.

"Molly Hooper...thank you" He said quietly, sincerely.

"It's my pleasure Sherlock..always, my pleasure" She said, her wide smile not leaving her face.

They stood up, Toby watched from the counter, purring wildly, expecting his third meal of the day. She went over and stroked him. Her face still flushed and her smile permanently shining on her face.

Sherlock watched her as she stroked Toby, she never meant more to him than she did in that moment.

Molly Hooper, he thought, you give me strength.

"I can't wait for you to see what I have planned for tomorrow"

Oh Molly, he thought helplessly, I'm going to need it.


	7. Chapter 7 - January Snow

The sun was quickly going down and large grey clouds had begun to linger above London as Bill Wiggins made his way towards Waterloo Bridge, the day had become progressively more frigid since he left Baker Street. As he trudged, he looked up at the clouds, nimbostratus, they were most likely carrying snow, he assumed taking by their dark grey colour. He sighed, his eyes watering from the bitter wind that was now hitting his face from across the River Thames. People walked past him, giving him short wary looks, trying to avoid eye contact. It seemed that even though he was in a city full of people, Sherlock Holmes was the only person who gave him the time of day.

"I have a few things I need you to do for me"

Sherlock's voice echoed in his mind as he trekked on. Trying not to think about the numbness of his fingers. After about half an hour, Bill finally arrived at his destination, Sundridge Park. He rubbed his hands together as he trudged through the soggy grass, he could feel the dew being absorbed into his tattered boots, it was an uncomfortable sensation, but not one that he was not used to. Sundridge Park was always quite daunting to Bill, with it's huge trees spanning for many yards. When he had first began living on the streets, Bill spent a lot of his time camping out in the park, in a small old tent which was full of holes. A few others had also made themselves at home there, pitching up tent when the sun went down and hoping not to be seized by the police. They were nice people, Bill thought, they didn't deserve to be sleeping rough. But that was life. Bill followed a small pathway into the small woodland, it was dark beneath the trees, especially since the sun had fallen lower in the sky, almost setting. He followed the path which it took him on a windy course through the trees, after a while. He spotted a campfire in the distance. About five or so people were huddled around it, embracing the warmth. Bill walked over to them, they watched him cautiously as he stretched his hands over the blaze.

"Evening" One of them grunted, Bill nodded at him and the others.

"Is Ed around?" Bill asked, in a weak but stern voice.

"Oi Wiggy! How ya coping mate?" A familiar voice came from behind him. Ed walked out from the shadows. Bill wheeled around and hugged his friend.

"'Avent seen ya round much Wiggy" Ed continued after they pulled apart. They walked away from the campfire to get some privacy.

"i've been busy" Bill replied smiling.

"What brings ya back here?" Ed said, patting Bill's shoulder affectionately.

"Have a little favour to ask" Bill said.

"Oh, I see...not just comin' back to say hi then" Ed laughed, before going into convolutions of coughs.

"Got a bit of a problem, Shezza sent me...Moriarty is back" Bill said, taking out a folded up piece of paper from his jeans, he handed it to Ed.

"Jim moriarty, back from the dead?" Ed read. "I did hear 'bout that"

"He's asked me to station some of us round the city...as surveillance" Bill said.

"What do you wan' me ta do?" Ed said quietly, watching Bill intently.

"Get your gang together and spread the word. Midnight tonight, meeting at the old fire station on Old Kent Road. Got it?" Bill said vigorously. Ed nodded in response.

"Alright see you then Wigg" Ed said, Bill nodded at him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Be careful out there Ed" Bill said with his hand still on Ed's shoulder. Ed nodded and stumbled back to the camp. Bill's hands were shaking violently now, the wind was raw against his face, the sunlight was gone, the woodland had become pitch black. It took Bill a few minutes to find his way back onto the footpath, just as the first snowflake well on his cheek.

About an hour later, Bill was sitting, in the shelter below Waterloo Bridge, trying to keep himself warm but blowing hot breath onto his shivering hands. The snow was falling faster now and was beginning to stick on the dry ground. Bill wondered if it would continue through the night, it was very difficult to tell. He could hear Big Ben in the distance, ringing out nine o'clock, he had three hours to wait before the meeting at Old Kent Road, so he tried to get his thoughts in order; he decided that he would try to appoint three or so men at each derelict house, that would be about two hundred men...maybe more, Bill was too distracted to do the maths. He remembered that there was also an abandoned commercial park up in Enfield that he would have to designate about ten men up there, there was also a string of deserted factories along the south bank of the Thames. Bill put his head in his hands. It was a big city. Yes, he thought, a big city, a big city with loads of places Moriarty could be hiding, ready to strike.

Bill had confidence that Ed wouldn't let him down, every homeless person in London probably knew about the meeting by now. Bill smiled to himself, he had never felt apart of something so big in his life, it made him feel protected. He watched, as the snow danced down from the grey clouds above, covering London in a thick blanket of white.

At about eleven thirty, Bill came out from under the bridge, the snow was still falling but it seemed to have become less excessive. As he stumbled through the snow, Bill's shoes became increasingly soggy, seaping through to his socks and making him feel colder than he already was. The city was quite busy, despite the recent snow shower, cars and cabs filled the streets, slogging slowly through the snow. Bill watched as the people inside them seemed to grow more and more impatient, beeping their horns in annoyance. 'What the hell are ya honking for mate, won't change the weather' He said to himself as he pulled up his collar against the bitter wind. As he walked down Waterloo road, Bill went over the plan in his head. 'Ed's lot will take the south bank, another twenty or so will cover the string of abandoned houses by Hyde Park...' He continued down the street until he hit Old Kent Road. The street was infamous for it's cheap housing and abandoned buildings, among them being an old fire station which had become a meeting spot for junkies for the past few years, but it had been recently searched out by the police, leaving it abandoned once more, making it perfect for Bill's use. Bill went around the back of the fire station, where he was met by a busted window. He climbed in quickly, slowly lowering his two cold feet onto the old wooden floor. The station was dark. He found a small candle on a shelf and took his lighter out to light the candle. Bill put his hands over the small flame for warmth, before taking out his old nokia phone to check the time. It was 11:55. 'People should start arriving soon' He said to himself, lighting up a cigarette. Suddenly, Bill heard a rustle from the other side of the room, he turned to try to find the source of the sound, but the room was too dark.

"Hullo" Bill called. "You here for the meetin'?" There was no response. "I know you're there, don't play games with me" There was a cold, eerie silence.

"Games? Oh, I do like games" Came a voice from the shadows. Suddenly something grabbed him from behind, he yelled in shock. He tried to pull away put the hands that held him were too strong. He struggled and shouted in fear, as the cold voice giggled smugly from the shadows.

"Nighty night" The voice said as Bill felt a hard thump on the top of his head, causing him to fall down on the cold, wooden floor. He strugged to stay concious, the room was spinning around him and his vision was blurred. He felt himself slipping into the familiar darkness.

"Down and... down... you... go" The voice whispered before starting to sing:

"Wotcher!" all the neighbours cried

'Oo yer gonna meet, Bill'

'Ave yer bought the street, Bill?'

Laugh? - I - fort I should've died

Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!

(('Wotcher! Knocked Em In The Old Kent Road' Sung by Shirley Temple & Arthur Treacher))

((HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHAPTER GUYS, MORE TO COME!))


	8. Chapter 8 - The Calm Before The Storm

"I can't wait for you to see what I have planned for tomorrow"

Sherlock couldn't sleep with the memory Moriarty's words still ringing in his ears. He turned on his side and picked up his mobile from the beside cabinet to check the time, it was three o'clock in the morning. He sighed to himself and sat up, pushing aside his duvet, a cold chill hit him as he stood up. His red robe was hanging up on the door and he reached over and put it on. He tiredly paced across the room, his curtains we're half pulled and the light of the cresent moon shone through. His desk was topped with experiments, Bunsen burners and flasks that glowed in the moonlight. He looked out onto the street below, a few cars passed slowly but otherwise it was silent. The snow was still falling, building up a thick carpet on the street below. It had started snowing earlier while he and Molly were watching some crap tv show together. He remembered how she leaped from the armchair at the sight of it and insisted they go outside, Sherlock wasn't very interested, but she had persuaded him. Sherlock smiled at the memory of Molly dancing through the snow outside 221b, as if all their problems had disappeared.

But the problems weren't so easily forgotten.

Sherlock walked back across the bedroom and out into the living room. Molly had gone to bed a few hours before, the flat was now silent. As he walked into the kitchen, he subconsciously looked at Johns chair and was slightly startled when he saw Toby lying there, sleeping and purring. Sherlock missed John, there was no denying it, he wondered how he was doing, they hadn't spoken for about a week now and this worried him. He almost picked up his mobile to call but he thought better of it, John would probably give out to him for calling him so early. He promised himself he'd call him tomorrow, he did promise to keep him updated after all.

As Sherlock filled the kettle and took the coffee from the cupboard he thought of Moriarty. His mind filled with absolute hatred just by the mere mention of his name. 'What is he planning?' He whispered to himself. "Duplicating murders..what's that about?"

After a few minutes, Sherlock sat down on his armchair holding his mug of coffee, he looked across at Toby who was half awake, staring at him with dozy eyes. Sherlock grabbed Molly's laptop that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He waited a moment for it to turn on before bringing up a new internet tab, in which, he searched:

The brighton barge murders.

There were quite a few results. Clicking on one, he read:

The Brighton Barge Massacre was one of the biggest homicides in british history when

serial killer by the nickname of 'Gibs' kidnapped twenty one people of different genders and

age groups and proceeded to stab them with a cutlet knife. He then dumped the bodies

in an abandoned barge and sent it cruising down the River Thames where it eventually

ran a ground on the east bank..Gibs was never found..

Sherlock stopped reading. it was all the same, the bodies, the genders, the barge, there must be something that he's missing, some clue that could point him towards ciphering what Moriarty had planned. He returned to the search engine:

Britain's most horrific homicides

Sherlock skimmed through the results before clicking on a 'police journal' blog.

There have been many horrific homicides over the past hundred years

here in Britain. But it seems that the worst of them have been committed

by murderers that the police were never able to bring into custody.

Jack the ripper being a fine example...

Jack the ripper? Sherlock thought...No, he wouldn't be so obvious.

He skimmed down the page.

Another example being the murderer known by the name

of 'Gibs' who was infamous for his brutal murder of twenty one people and then

discard the bodies in an disused barge...

"You're awake" Came a quiet voice from the door.

Molly was standing in her pink dressing gown watching him in interest. He nodded and looked back at the webpage.

"Find anything helpful..to help stop..him" She yawned as she walked into the kitchen and put on the kettle. "Tea?"

"No and no" Sherlock said, still looking down at the laptop.

"Couldn't sleep?" She said, coming over to him. He looked away from the screen and glanced at her. She was standing beside him, looking down at the webpage. He shook his head. "Do you think he's copying murderers that were never caught?" She said, pointing at the article. "That could narrow it down"

"Just a little" He said, picking up his coffee which was now cold.

"Here I'll get you some more" She said, taking the mug from his hand, smiling sweetly.

"Thank you Molly" He said, grabbing her wrist as she walked away and pulling her back playfully. She giggled and knelt down beside his armchair. He looked her in the eyes, how was it that she still looked so beautiful even in the middle of the night? She pulled him in and kissed him gently before getting up and walking back into the kitchen. Sherlock closed the laptop and placed it back on the coffee table, watching her.

"Molly.." he said, more seriously.

"Mmmhmm" She responded, with her back to him as she made her tea.

"It's so maddening...just waiting like this..."

"It's a game remember, We'll figure it out and the sooner we do, the more lives we'll save.." Molly said, looking back at him. He liked the way she said 'we' when she spoke, it made him feel so much less solitary.

"It's just, I don't think he's playing a game Molly...he doesn't want us to figure it out. The last time he gave me clues..he gave me time limits, but now.." Sherlock said, his voice full of doubt. Molly walked back over to him and handed him his coffee. Sherlock was silent for a moment, figuring out what to say next and how to say it.

"I let one slip past me Molly" He said finally, as looked up at her, confessing. "one of his criminals.." Molly shifted Toby onto her lap as she sat down in John's chair. She watched him in fear and interest.

"Go on" She said, nodding. "I won't judge you Sherlock"

"His name is Moran, Sebastian Moran. Every moment I would almost catch him, he'd escape..run back into the shadows. It would take me months to find him again. He was assigned to shoot John, on the day of the fall, he was going to kill him if I didn't jump. I searched for him, everywhere...Serbia was the last straw, he was seen there, so I went to find him... there was no trace of him, None!" Sherlock knocked the coffee table with his fist, looking at her in regret and self anger. Molly got up and knelt in front of him, she put her hand comfortingly on his knee. After a minute, Sherlock continued:

"He helped Moriarty...he helped him return, he could be locked away right now, left to rot in some Serbian prison..but I let him run, I gave up and came running back to London, like a fed up child" He was trying to fight his tears.

"Sherlock, we will catch him. We will not let him run again, it will be fine, I promise" She smiled at him, putting her hand on his cheek, he put his hand on top hers. "I know how you feel"

"Do you?" he asked in a quiet, accusing voice.

"Yes Sherlock I do" Molly replied sternly "Two years ago, on the day of the fall. After I examined you, Moriarty was wheeled in...you may have been told that I conducted his post mortem."

"Didn't you?" Sherlock interrupted, confusion written all over his face. She shook her head in defeat.

"No Sherlock...I didn't. I was sent home, it was a emotional day..I"

"Who did it? The post mortem." Sherlock interrupted again.

"Some guy called Gibley...i think..I hadn't heard of him. Sherlock, I'm sorry, I.." She said, as tears began to run down her face "I shouldn't have left, I should have done the post mortem..if I did then maybe it would be different.."

"No, Molly, It wouldn't be different. Please, please, don't blame yourself for this"

"Oh, Sherlock.. I could say the same thing to you" She said sincerly, smiling weakly. "It's not your fault that Moran got away, Moriarty was protecting him, you couldn't have known" They were silent for a moment, looking into each other's eyes.

"We're both screw ups Sherlock Holmes, we're both broken, but, the past is in the past" She said. He smiled weakly at her and pulled her in for another kiss. Molly blushed, she will never get used to the feel of his lips on hers, it was like a dream. After a minute, they pulled apart. Sherlock smiled at her, his expression full of compassion. He pulled back a piece of hair that fell upon Molly's cheek and placed it behind her ear.

"I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you Molly Hooper" He said sincerely.

Molly shook her head. "Like I said, Sherlock, the past's in the past, don't worry about it, please." Sherlock smiled at her, with a expression of relief.

"If we find Gibley, we'll find Moran and Moriarty" Sherlock said, an edge was back in his voice, a confidence that he didn't have before. He jumped up and started heading back towards his bedroom.

"Sherlock" She called after him, he turned back. "Moriarty..he said he had something planned for today, is there any hope, that we'll find out what it is before he does it, i mean, will we be able to stop him?" Sherlock sighed and looked at her with a tenacious expression.

"I don't know Molly." He said. "but at least now we know where to start" Molly watched him as he walked into his room and closed the door. She took a sip from her tea and sighed, what ever Moriarty had planned, Molly was dreading finding out.

'How is it possible to feel so happy and so terrified at the same time" She thought, touching her lips lightly. It really was a bittersweet feeling.

Molly walked across the living room and looked out the window down onto the snowy street below, no cars whizzed past, everything was so silent.

"Well this is it..." She whispered "The calm before the storm"


	9. Chapter 9 - The Man Who Fooled Us Both

Molly had hardly slept, as she opened her eyes they felt heavy and tired. The morning sun was gleaming through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom in a warm, gold light. She wondered what time it was, as she pulled back her duvet, Sherlock hadn't come in to wake her up, she took that as a sign that Moriarty had been silent and that Lestrade hadn't yet called them to examine a new, horrifying crime scene. This gave Molly a little hope. She changed out of her pygamas and changed into her clothes for the day. Looking out at the snow, Molly shivered before pulling on another few more wooly layers. "It's going to be a cold one" She murmured as she pulled on another pair of socks.

A few minutes later, Molly stumbled down the stairs, rubbing her eyes with her hands, in an effort to wake herself up. As she reached the landing, she saw that Sherlock was lying on the sofa, with his eyes closed and his face expressionless. He didn't notice her as she walked across the living room into the kitchen, giggling weakly to herself as she noticed Toby laying beside him on the couch, watching her. Molly took out his cat food from one of the cupboards and began preparing his breakfast. Hearing the familiar sound, Toby leaped from the sofa, treading over Sherlock as he did so, kicking him out of his daze. Toby ran into the kitchen and jumped up onto the counter beside her, purring. Sherlock sat up on the sofa and watched as Molly gave him his breakfast. She put on the kettle.

"How are you?" Molly chirped up, hearing Sherlock rustling on the sofa. "Lestrade hasn't called yet then?" Her voice was serious.

"No" He replied hoarsely, she nodded at him.

"How long have you been up?" She said, trying to sound cheerful.

"I didn't sleep, I was thinking" He said.

"What were you thinking about?" She said, bringing in two teas from the kitchen. She handed one to him before sitting down on the sofa beside him.

"What do you think." He sighed, taking the tea.

"Me too. It's agony just waiting...I feel so helpless, just knowing that he's out there.." She said, looking at him weakly. He stared back at her.

All of a sudden, Sherlock jumped up from the sofa and strided across the room, grabbing his coat from the back of John's chair and pulled in on gracefully. He turned back to Molly, who was looking at him in confusion, before grabbing her coat.

"Please tell me you have a plan" She said hopefully, following him as he advanced out the door and began to decent the stairs. He turned to her and looked up at her with a determined expression.

"If we find Gibley, we'll find Moran and Moriarty" He said, repeating the words from the night before.

As Sherlock reached the front door of 221b, he turned back to wait for Molly to reach his side. She looked at him, her expression turning fearful.

"Sherlock, the people today, the people Moriarty is going to..kill, do you think they have any chance..." She said weakly, her voice full of hope.

"We can't save them Molly" He said firmly, shocking her "They are most likely already dead" And with that, he turned, opened the door and slipped out. Molly followed, watching his coat fly behind in the bitter, January breeze, it's blackness contrasting starkly with the white glint of the snowy ground.

About fifteen minutes later, Molly and Sherlock's cab pulled up outside New Scotland Yard. Molly looked up at the building in front of her in absolute awe, as she followed Sherlock up the snowy steps.

As they entered Scotland Yard, Molly rejoiced at the wisp of air conditioning that hit her face. She stared in bewilderment at the pure scale and style of the inside of the building with it's elegant white marble walls, spanning up as far as she could see.

"Sherlock" A familiar voice called from across the grand reception area. Greg Lestrade walked over to them with a confused expression and a slight smile. "It's a surprise seeing you here mate, I said I'd text if anything turned up"

"Yes, I know" Sherlock said, Lestrade stared at him expectantly. "We're hoping you could dig up some surveillance videos"

"Surveillance videos? Well, that's not my division. But I'm sure I can grab someone to help you out. You two onto something?" He asked.

"Maybe, not too sure yet" Sherlock responded.

"Right well, follow me then" He said, smiling at Molly.

Upstairs, on the 30th floor, Lestrade introduced Sherlock and Molly to the head of security and surveillance Bob Turner. Bob was about twenty years old, he stared at Sherlock, eyes wide, like a puppy looking at his master.

"What can I help you with Mr. Holmes" He chimed, smiling widely.

"I need you to pull up some security footage from St Barts" Sherlock said impatiently.

"Okie dokie" Bob turned to his large mac computer and started typing at lightening speed. Sherlock gave Molly a look and raised his eyes to heaven impatiently. Molly stifled a giggle and looked at the computer.

"Alright Mr. Holmes, what dates are we looking at here" Bob said brightly, still typing.

"Sunday 15th of January 2012" Molly responded almost instantly "from 12-1 pm" Sherlock looked at her wistfully.

"Alrighty" Bob said curiously, typing again. "Where?"

"The eastern stairwell" Sherlock said.

"Right, and volá" He said, sitting back in his chair.

"May I" Sherlock said, pointing at the chair.

"Oh of course, of course, I'm so sorry, here" Bob jumped up and allowed Sherlock to sit down. Molly stifled another giggle.

"Maybe one for my girlfriend too" Sherlock said.

"What?" Molly squeaked.

"Of course, of course" Bob said, grabbing a chair and placing it behind Molly "Sorry I didn't think"

"Off you go" Sherlock said, looking at the screen.

"Yes..yes.." Bob said, scampering off.

"Sherlock" Molly began, smiling to herself. But he wasn't listening to her, his eyes were fixed on the screen in confusion. She turned and looked at the screen. The time said 1pm, Moriarty's body was being taken down from the roof on a stretcher. Two men in fluorescent vests carried either side of it, behind them followed a man in a lab coat. They were talking, Sherlock turned up the volume.

"He's quite a mess isn't he?" Said the first man.

"Ha, you should see the other guy" the other said "He jumped off the roof"

"What the hell was going on up there? What were they doing?" the first man said.

"Beats me, any ideas Gibley? the second man said. Gibley didn't respond.

"That's him isn't it? Gibley?" Molly asked quietly. Sherlock was silent, he leaned in closer to the screen, trying to figure something out. Sherlock clicked a button and the camera changed, allowing them to view the eastern corridor. The three men and the stretcher entered the hallway, they placed the stretcher on a wheeled gurney. And stood back. Gibley had his back to the camera. Suddenly, two men wearing white lab coats appeared from the other end of the hall. A split second later, the two men in the fluorescent vests fell to the ground. Molly gasped in shock as she realized they were shot. The men in the lab coats walked down the hall and stopped beside Gibley, putting their guns back in their pockets. Gibley turned around to them, smiling smugly. The two men took either end of the gorney and began wheeling down the corridor. Sherlock paused the tape. Molly's hands were shaking.

"Bob." Sherlock called, startling her. Bob reappeared and ran to his side.

"Yes Mr. Holmes" he said.

"Can you zoom into his face" Sherlock said, his eyes not leaving the computer screen. Bob leaned forward and clicked a few buttons, zooming in. Gibley's face came into focus, Sherlock gasped quietly.

"Thanks Bob" he said quietly, Bob scuttled off once more.

"What's wrong Sherlock" Molly said quietly, staring at Sherlock.

"There is no Gibley Molly" He turned to her. "That's Sebastian Moran"

Molly stared at him, disbelief and hatred filling her from head to toe.

"The man who fooled us both" she whispered.

Suddenly, Lestrade barged in, a look of fear and shock on his face.

"Oi, Sherlock...Molly" Sherlock and Molly turned to him.

"Where?" Sherlock said, jumping up in a flash, grabbing his coat and throwing it around himself.

"White chapel" Lestrade replied as Sherlock strided past him, Molly followed, with a hurricane of fear, regret and dread growing within her.

"Time to see what Moriarty has for us next" she thought to herself in fury. Her hatred for Moriarty growing in every, single, step.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Whitechapel Murders

As Molly and Sherlock took the fifteen minute cab journey across to White Chapel, they were both silent. An air of dread filling the air as they neared closer and closer to their destination. Sherlock turned to glance at Molly who was looking out the window, shifting in her seat and fidgeting her fingers. Fear filling her with every moment. As Sherlock watched her, a hint of regret twinged in his mind as he wondered why he was putting her in harms way like this.

Love is a dangerous disadvantage

His own words echoed in his mind, he remembered the look of defeat in The Woman's eyes. 'Moriarty will use her (Molly) against me somehow', he thought, 'Just like he did with John' Sherlock sighed to himself. 'I don't know what I'd do if something happened to her' He thought, watching her long brown hair falling past her shoulders, gleaming in the sun. 'I really don't'

Sherlock shook the thought from his head, it was distracting him, she was distracting him. He turned to look out the window once more. The city was about with it's own business, the buskers, the shoppers, the couples, the homeless..'all so clueless.' Sherlock thought. 'All so utterly ignorant' He felt a throb of protectiveness as he watched them, the innocents, the targets..of Moriarty's new game.

As they approached their destination, Molly turned to him, with the look of dread that hadn't left her face during the whole journey. He smiled weakly, trying to offer some comfort for his pathologist, she smiled back, her eyes full of worry.

Lestrade stood on the footpath as they pulled over. Sherlock jumped out first and walked around the cab. Molly hopped out a second later and accompanied him at his side. Lestrade nodded grimly before leading them up to an old, abandoned house. As he looked up at it, Sherlock remembered telling Bill a few days before to station people around the city. He specifically remembered telling him to station people at old abandoned houses...like the one in front of him. Sherlock shook his head in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Molly chirped from behind him.

"Nothing" Sherlock said, following Lestrade inside, gritting his teeth. Bill had probably got high and forgotten, but Sherlock had other things to be thinking about now.

Lestrade lead them up the stairs slowly, the old floorboards groaning as they paced. Sherlock deduced that the house was about half a century old, by the state of the walls, floorboards and the glimpses of furniture that he saw through doorways while ascending the stairs. There were a few forensics scientists and other officers on the third floor landing, watching them as they approached. Among them were Sally Donovon and Philip Anderson.

"Afternoon Sherlock" Anderson said, smiling weakly.

"Anderson" Sherlock said, nodding at him with a sombre expression.

"Freak" Donovon said, almost affectionately.

"Donovon" Sherlock said.

"Right now that the introductions are out of the way" Lestrade said sarcastically, gesturing them to follow him, leading them through one of the doorways.

Molly followed Sherlock into the room, she didn't want to look, so she stared up at Sherlock, he was now still as a statue. She gathered her courage and took one more step, she was now standing right beside him, following his gaze.

Five female bodies were on the floor, laid in a perfect line on top of a Persian rug, their hair and make up immaculate and their hands were clasped elegantly on their chests. There was no blood, which surprised Molly. She took another step into the room, staring down at the bodies. 'They're all women, middle aged, pretty' She said to herself. 'Just normal women' Sherlock slipped past her and knelt down beside the first body, flicking his coat behind him as he did so. Molly couldn't understand how calm he looked.

Sherlock took out his mini magnifying glass from his coat pocket and began examining the first woman. Molly walked over and leaned down to examine the first of the line of bodies on the opposite side. It became obvious as she looked closer what the cause of death was:

"They're throats have been slit" Molly said aloud. Sherlock looked up at her, seemingly startled by the sudden break of silence.

"Yes" Sherlock said. There was silence once more. Suddenly Donovon's voice filled the room

"Just got the results of the blood tests" Her head sticking around the door "Seems they all got one thing in common.."

"They're prostitutes" Sherlock interrupted, not looking up from the body. "Their make up has been reapplied, their hair redone, their clothes have been changed too" He said, smelling the fabric "brand new" Suddenly, he pulled at the shirt and it tore apart.

"Some things can't be so easily covered up by make up" He said, looking down at the woman's chest, which was covered in wounds.

"They've been cleaned up, around the neck wounds also, they've been disinfected" Molly said, making her way across the room to Sherlock's side. She knelt down at the body and examined the torso wounds.

"Her abdomen has been sliced" Molly continued "Ripped clean open"

"But it's been closed up again" Sherlock said. Standing up. While looking down at the bodies he suddenly had a flash of realization.

"Oh..White Chapel, of course! Very, Very clever Jim" He announced, smiling widely. Molly watched him, dumbfounded. Something about that name suddenly felt quite familiar. 'White Chapel' She repeated as Sherlock walked over the the second body, pointing at it.

"Slits in the throat, abdomen slashed open..uterus removed..." He exclaimed, Molly gasped quietly in realization as Sherlock paced to the third body.

"Throat severed, abdomen slashed, uterus and kidney removed" He continued, pointing at the third body.

"Of course" Molly whispered as Sherlock approached the fourth body.

"Clear-cut incision severing the main artery on the left side of the neck, abdomen sliced and mutilated" He said excitedly, moving onto the fifth and final body.

"Throat severed down to the spine, abdomen emptied of it's organs...heart removed" He finished, looking back at Molly and Lestrade who stared back in shock.

"Jack the Ripper" Molly said quietly, suddenly everything made sense. Molly remembered learning about Jack the Ripper when she was in college; the prostitutes, the brutal force and the preposition of the wounds..White Chapel, she remembered, his murder spree was also known as The White chapel Murders.

"I didn't think he'd be so obvious..but Jack the Ripper?! It's so obvious that it's genius" Sherlock exclaimed.

"We do remember this is Moriarty we're talking about Sherlock" Molly said sternly. "And these women are dead..Have some respect" Molly looked at Sherlock, shame written all over her face. Sherlock looked back at her, his smile fading, before striding past her out the door. She followed obediently, thanking Lestrade on her way out.

Molly was thankful for a breath of fresh air as she exited the old house. Sherlock was already standing on the snowy side walk. A few seconds later, Molly was at his side.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked, looking at him with concern "You thought he might replicate Jack the Ripper...when?"

Sherlock turned to her, his expression was back to its normal self, calm and reserved.

"We couldn't have saved them Molly" He said, holding her face in his hands. A tear fell down her cheek and Sherlock pushed it lightly aside.

"We may have lost this battle Molly, but we will win the war" He said, looking in her eyes. His voice full of determination, he kissed her forehead before turning towards the road, waving his arm, stopping a taxi that was approaching. Molly loved Sherlock, but at times she wondered if he was even human, she remembered the expression on his face...the enthusiasm, the excitement...and it worried her fiercely.

'Of course we lost the battle' She thought helplessly 'We didn't even fight'


	11. Chapter 11 - One Step Ahead

Sherlock burst through the door of 221b and strode across the room grabbing Molly's laptop off the coffee table as he went. Molly followed, watching him apprehensively as he sat down in his armchair.

"You're on to something Sherlock, something that you're not telling me" She said, taking off her coat. Sherlock was silent, staring at the screen, completely absorbed in what he was reading. He wore a determined expression with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Molly sighed loudly before turning into the kitchen, she had missed breakfast that morning and was absolutely famished. She opened the fridge and searched around for anything edible. Toby jumped onto the counter beside her, staring at her expectantly with his big brown eyes. She smiled at him and petted his back, making him purr loudly. Molly glanced back at Sherlock who was still on the laptop, still staring down at it with his piercing eyes. 'He must be hungry' Molly thought to herself. 'He hasn't eaten for a day now' She watched him in worry before pulling out some sausages from the back of the fridge, they were in date, just about. She took out a clean pan from the cupboard and put it on the stove.

Sherlock rustled a bit in his armchair, his eyes darting from side to side, reading. Molly watched him as the sausages cooked, the aroma filling the kitchen. Toby watched the sausages playfully as they sizzled on the pan, his eyes full of desire. Molly giggled to herself before giving in and pulling out his cat food. She petted him gently as she prepared his meal.

A few minutes later, Molly placed a plate with two crispy brown sausages in front of Sherlock who glanced up briefly before looking back down at the laptop.

"You have to eat something Sherlock." She said, sounding more maternal than she had hoped. He looked up at her, a hint of amusement in his blue eyes before turning the laptop around to face her. Four words glared her as she stared down at the webpage.

The Bright Chapel Theory

"The Bright Chapel Theory?" Molly asked.

As she leaned in closer to read the smaller font, Sherlock snapped the laptop closed and looked up at her knowingly.

"Some kind of pun?" Molly said. "Brighton Barge...White Chapel?"

Sherlock nodded and made a gesture for her to go on.

"You know" She said sarcastically "You could just let me finish reading it..."

Sherlock sighed and smiled weakly at her.

"Are they related somehow?" Molly asked. "The murders?"

"Quite essentially" Sherlock replied.

"Fill me in please" Molly demanded "Bright Chapel?"

"It's the name of a theory produced back in the eighteen hundreds" He said, Molly watched him, still perplexed. "As Jack the Ripper was never found, people began to suppose he was still out there..hiding in the shadows, lurking undercover right under their noses" He stood up so he was face to face with Molly before continuing. "About three months after The White Chapel Murders, a disused barge floated down the Thames filled with mutilated bodies and what do you think the people assumed?" Sherlock said "That it was Jack making one more foul attack on the people of London! But it wasn't Jack the Ripper after all, the barge murder was committed by another man, Gibs. Now in the eyes of the terrified civilians, there were two deadly psychopaths waiting to strike! So a theory was produced, not a theory really..more like the product of gossip. It stated that Jack the Ripper and Gibs were associates.."

"But how does this have anything to do with Moriarty?" Molly interrupted, confusion written all over her face.

"Gibs's real name was Stephen Gibley" Sherlock said, slowly and simply.

"Moran?" Molly muttered, wondering why Moran would want to steal the identity of a 17th century murderer.

Before Molly could question him, Sherlock began rummaging through his coat pockets hurriedly. Finding nothing, he proceeded to throw off his coat and began searching around the flat impatiently.

"Where's my phone?" He said, as he rummaged through the sheets and books on the table.

"Sherlock?" Molly said, watching him with bewilderment, he wasn't listening. "Sherlock!" She yelled, more stubbornly. Sherlock suddenly turned and strode towards her.

"I know what he's planning!" He exclaimed.

"Mind filling me in?" Molly muttered sarcastically, now it was Sherlock's turn to look confused."Why did Moran take Gibley's identity...? Why are they replicating these murders..? I know you know why Sherlock ...please explain!" She said, panic filling her voice. "Please.." She begged. Sherlock walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders as she began to cry "Why are they doing this?" She squeaked.

"I'm sorry Molly" He said, realizing his fatuity. Molly sat down on his armchair, her exhaustion suddenly hitting her as she seeped down into the warm leather. Sherlock knelt down beside her before continuing.

"Years passed and the people of London began to become restless, with those two psychopaths still running loose, hiding and planning. Rumors started floating around the city that they were planning an attack, a deadly, despicable attack..." He stopped, a moment passed before he continued "An attack on London's homeless men, women and children" Molly looked at him, realization looming on her face.

"But it was just a theory, a theory produced by people scared out of their wits more than a hundred years ago!" Molly said in disbelief.

"Yes it was just a theory Molly" Sherlock said. "Until now"

"So this is what they're planning" She said in shock. Sherlock nodded grimly.

"I knew it the moment I saw the bodies in White Chapel" He said, standing up and continuing to search for his phone, if his homeless network were in danger he needed to warn them "I need to text Bill" He said, half to himself. He hadn't heard from Bill for two days now, suddenly a painful dread began to grow in his stomach.

'Oh very clever Moriarty...' Sherlock thought, pure hatred filling his body 'He's planning to dismantle my network..like I dismantled his'

"I thought you didn't care.." Molly said suddenly, Sherlock looked back at her, a look of bewilderment on his face "At the crime scene, you sounded so..unsympathetic, so inhumane.." She looked up at him in pure relief, tears spilling down her cheeks. Sherlock walked back over and knelt down beside her, he placed his two hands on Molly's cheeks and looked into her eyes, his expression was so loving, his eyes full of trust. She smiled warmly as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "It was like you were gone" She said weakly.

"Well I'm here now Molly Hooper..I'm back with you now" He whispered lovingly. Kissing her lightly on the lips. "We know what they're planning now, we might be able to save them Molly" He said, with a wave of hope in his voice which made Molly smile.

He stood up, remembering that he had left his phone on the coffee table. He found it a few seconds later buried underneath some unopened post. He then grabbed his coat and threw it back on, smiling to himself determinedly as he paced out the door because for the first time since Moriarty's return, he felt one step ahead.

((I'm really, really sorry if this chapter is kind of confusing or hard to read ! I found it really difficult to write ! :))

((THANK YOU ALL FOR THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS SO FAR !)) Xxoxox


	12. Chapter 12 - Pitch Black

"Knocked Em in the Old Kent Road"

"Em in the Old Kent Road"

"in the Old Kent Road"

"the Old Kent Road"

"Old Kent Road"

"Kent Road"

"Road"

The last thing Bill Wiggin's remembered was hearing a smooth thud before everything went black.

His eyes suddenly flicked open, pitch dark surrounded him, a cold fear seeped through his body, as he waved his hand in front of his face, panting in panic. Had he gone blind? As Bill tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, pain pounded violently at his skull. He winced in pain and in a subconscious reaction, his hands shot up, feeling his scalp for a wound. His fingers were suddenly wet...and sticky. Bill gasped in horror and tried to pull himself up once more. A wave of dizziness filled his body and he fell back onto the cold ground. He felt around him, the floor was metal, it felt icy as his fingertips glided over it. He lay there for what felt like hours, feeling the iciness permeate through his clothing and send chills down his spine.

He had absolutely no clue where he was...

After a while, his whole body began to ache, as if he was thawing from dumbness. He tried to remember the night before but his memory was full of holes. He remembered the snow falling as he sat under Waterloo bridge, he remembered his feet going numb from the cold, the warmth of a bonfire, he remembered Ed and Old Kent Road..and ...He felt himself slowly falling back into nothingness...Moriarty, suddenly he was back, sudden realization filling his body, followed by a whirl of fear.

'Moriarty was waiting for me at the old fire station' he recalled 'with is henchmen...' Bill felt another sharp burst of pain as he managed to get up onto his feet. He glided his hands down his torso, feeling for and finding more open wounds. He felt like he would vomit, he stumbled sideways but managed to keep himself standing. He began to stumble forward, feeling around for a door..a wall..anything, an edge of this dark prison. Suddenly, Bill's hand hit the wall, it was brick and freezing under his hands. He followed it blindly, it carried on for another few meters before he reached a corner, he continued to follow the wall, it went on for another few meters, then another corner...his fingers trailed lightly along the next wall to another corner...

Bill felt disorientated as he brushed a bead of sweat from his brow. He the turned his back to the wall and slid down into a defeated sitting position. He was panting heavily now, fear and helplessness taking over, tears began spill down his cheeks in fear as he began to wonder what Moriarty was going to do to him. "Why..why..?" He muttered weakly...

'Why didn't Moriarty kill me?' His mind responded with confusion. 'Why am I not dead?'

His eyes began to dart around in panic, desperately searching for some kind of light...

'Am I dead?!' his mind continued, it's panic building.

"Sherlock!" Bill suddenly gasped, reaching down to his pockets, searching for his phone. It was missing, he sighed. 'Of course they've taken it' He shook his head in his own stupidity, defeated by hope. 'He'll know I'm missing by now' Bill said to himself, through not fully believing the words, he would often go off and get high and Sherlock wouldn't hear from him in days..why would this be any different in his eyes? He shook the thought from his head and tried to hold onto the small sliver of hope he had left 'Sherlock will save me' he said to himself, almost praying.

"Sherlock will come" He muttered.

Suddenly, there was a loud creak and a bright light filled the room. Bill yelled in pure shock and shielded his eyes from the harsh light. He heard footsteps fill the room.

"Looks like sleeping beauty has finally come around" Bill almost instantly recognized Moriarty's smooth voice. His eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the bright light, he stared out from behind his arm, Moriarty was above him staring down at him in forged pity. Hatred filled Bill with every breath as he stared up at him, leaving no room for fear. Suddenly, Bill leaped up, ignoring the surge of pain that shot through his body and lunged at Moriarty. Hearing the commotion, three of Moriarty's henchmen ran through the door and grabbed hold of Bill, who had just punched Moriarty square in the jaw. They pushed him back against the wall, he yelled in agony as the pain from his wounds multiplied. Moriarty giggled to himself smugly as he rubbed his jaw, looking at Bill.

"That hurt Billy-Boy" He said, he then nodded at one of the henchmen, a vile smile spreading over his lips.  
Suddenly, the henchmen began throwing punches at Bill, on his face and torso, widening the already open wounds and causing blood to spurt out and seep through his shirt. Bill screamed in pain, begging for them to stop.

Moriarty nodded and the blows deceased. Bill slumped into a pile on the floor, panting and grunting in pain, holding his sides. His nose was bleeding rapidly, blood dripping on the metal floor, echoing; Tip-tap..tip-tap

"Now" Moriarty said after a minute of silence, watching Bill as he shook in pain and fear.

"Billy-Boy, Tell me all that you know about Sherlock Holmes and his Homeless network" Bill stared at him, staying silent. Moriarty nodded again and one of the henchmen blew a hard punch at Bill's nose, causing blood to spurt out all over the ground, he groaned in pain.

"Oh Billy, don't be difficult.." Moriarty whined as another punch knocked Bill hard on the cheekbone, Moriarty knelt down in front of Bill and stared him in the eye, his expression merciless.

"Tell me all you know...Bill Wiggins, or you'll never see daylight again"


	13. Chapter 13 - I See Fire (Part I)

Bill - Where are you? Please respond - SH

Sherlock sent off yet another text to Bill, pacing the living room, worry seeping into him with every step, trying to keep a level head. He had texted Bill almost twenty times in the past two hours and there had been no response yet. Sherlock's mind was a hurricane of emotions, emotions that even his well organized mind couldn't take control of. He couldn't think straight, his mind was too fogged up with emotion.

Molly watched from John's armchair as Sherlock strode back and forth, toying with his phone nervously. The room was almost silent except the light thump of Sherlock's feet on the carpet. He was wearing his red dressing gown and as he paced frantically, it seemed to dance. Molly sipped her tea quietly, not moving her eyes from Sherlock.

'Please tell me he has a plan...please..' Molly said to herself, thinking of the thousands of innocent homeless people of London, the victims of Moriarty's new game. The idea sickened her deeply, thousands dead...men, women and children. Molly closed her eyes at the thought and rubbed her forehead. She was at the beginnings of a dreadful migraine, she had often got migraines when she was stressed at work, but she knew this was going to be the worst one yet. She opened her eyes suddenly, Sherlock had stopped pacing, he was now staring at her, concern written all over his face.

"I'm fine" Molly muttered, smiling weakly. "Any word?"

"None" Sherlock said, a mixture of frustration and sheer worry filling his voice. He paced back and forward once more before sitting opposite her on his armchair. He stared at her for a while with a blank expression, like he was looking right through her. Molly stared back, wondering what was going on in that brain of his. He suddenly closed his eyes.

Sherlock's mind was unfocused, disorientated, muddled...far from the ordinary and this scared him immensely. He sat back and allowed his mind to go blank before delving down into the darkness of his mind to try to find some order. He reached his mind palace a few seconds later;

_'There are roughly 6,437 homeless people in London. 2,000 of these are currently members of my homeless network, all sprawled out through the city. There are 800 homeless camps in London. 100 tent cities, many sleep under the arches in the Embankment...not to mention the thousands of abandoned buildings. How is Moriarty going to murder thousands of homeless people? How? It is definite by now that he has managed to construct a new criminal network. A new network with new criminals..murderers, spies..right under my nose!'_

Sherlock grimaced, Molly watched in concern. He was muttering to himself. She could make out a few words..Homeless, Embankment, criminal network, murderers. There was urgency in the words, she noticed, maybe even a hint of fear.

_'I told Bill to assign someone in the homeless network at each abandoned house. Which means that as soon as he left 221b he would most likely have made his way to the nearest homeless camp to spread the word. The nearest camp would be...Kensington gardens..but Bill did often speak of friends farther south than that..his connections. South..south...south..Sundridge, yes, that's the one. Sundridge Park'_

"Sundridge park?" Molly repeated. Sherlock had barked the words loudly, making Molly jump. His eyes suddenly darted open, for a moment he seemed lost and dazed, he then noticed that Molly was still sitting opposite him, staring at him expectantly.

"Bill spoke of his connections there" Sherlock said, a desperation clinging to his voice. He shot up off the chair, Molly jumped up half a second after. As he strode past her, she stopped him, placing an arm around his shoulder softly.

"Are you alright Sherlock?" She looked into his eyes, he seemed miles away. He looked tired. "I'm fine Molly" He answered, smiling delicately, putting his strong arms around her, a protectiveness bolted through him like electricity, a worry that he knew he couldn't conceal. He feared for her safety constantly, it filled his mind and it terrified him.

"It's not safe Molly...maybe you should stay.." Sherlock began before feeling Molly push herself up and planting a light kiss on his lips.

"I'm coming with you Sherlock" She said when she pulled back "We need to find Bill, to stop Moriarty and to save the lives of thousands of homeless people..you can't do this on your own Sherlock, you know you can't. You need help" She touched his cheek softly as she spoke. He sighed deeply.

"You're right Molly Hooper" He said softly into her ear "I need you"

About ten minutes later, Sherlock and Molly exited 221b in disguise. Sherlock was wearing a dark navy hoodie, full of holes and worn blue jeans. His hair was ruffled and messy, falling onto his face. Molly walked out after him, wearing an old black hoodie and dark green track suit pants. Her hair was up in a messy pony tail and she wore sunglasses over her eyes. They looked so grotty that as they hailed for a cab, many whizzed by in avoidance, reluctant to stop. Finally after a few minutes, one pulled up.

"No funny business" The driver said sternly, watching them on the mirror as they hopped in. Sherlock nodded at the cabbie, Molly stared out the window. Utterly surprised that they were so convincing.

The journey to took them half an hour. Sherlock spotted the cabbie glancing back in the mirror suspiciously a few times, but he lost interest about half way through the journey. Sherlock looked out the window, thinking about Bill. Thinking about what Moriarty was doing with him..Sherlock knew he soon may have to embrace the possibility that he may already be dead. Sherlock closed his eyes in dread, he liked Bill, he was a good man, smarter than a lot of people would give him credit for. Sherlock took out his phone in one last attempt.

Bill. We will find you, you will be ok - SH

Sherlock texted the words, trying to believe them with every fiber...but he knew it may not end well.

When they pulled up to Sundridge Park, Sherlock chucked a few notes to the cabbie before slipping out. Molly followed close behind, she smiled at the cabbie but he avoided her gaze. A bitter breeze hit her as she stepped out onto the road, she started to wish that she had worn more layers. Sundridge park was quiet and abandoned, the normally green lush grass was still covered in an inch or two of snow. Sherlock strode ahead, through the snow pulling his hood up as he walked, Molly followed behind, following Sherlock's footprints on the snowy ground. Sherlock trudged up to a large patch of woodland, which looked far from appealing, the sun was beginning to set and it made the woodland look gloomy and dull. Sherlock lead them onto a footpath, it was covered in snow but she could feel the thud of the concrete as she stepped onto it. They followed the path for a few minutes, Sherlock saw a flicker of a bonfire in the distance. Molly's eyes remained on the ground, she felt safe with Sherlock but she didn't want to feed her senses and her imagination by observing her dark, menacing surroundings. Suddenly, Molly hit into Sherlock, he had stopped. She pulled her head up and looked out from behind his back. There was a camp in front of them, a few old tents scattered around and a huge bonfire in the heart of it, surrounded by a number of freezing people. A big man was approaching them, his face was stern and wild.

"Oi you two, there's enough of us ere already..scram" He growled, getting closer to them.

"I'm sure there's room for two more mate" Sherlock replied softly, with a thick south London accent.

"I said..." He began, before stopping dead in his tracks looking at Sherlock. He hint of a smile crossed his lips. "Ya coulda texted or somethin Shezza!"

Molly sighed deeply in relief as they shook hands.

A few minutes later, Sherlock and Molly were standing in front of the small bonfire, warming their hands graciously.

"Ya I saw him" the man, whose name was Ed, said "Bout a day ago, said something about a meeting"

"Yes" Sherlock nodded, watching Ed. "I told him to set it up"

"He said that yeah. Didn't show up for it though, his own meetin, found that a bit rude" Ed said "Spread the message myself, across the city, 'meetin in the Old Kent Road 12am' "

Sherlock nodded and looked into the fire. A minute passed, Sherlock's mind was fogging up once more with panic and anger.

Suddenly, his phone blared up in his pocket, breaking the silence with it's loud ringtone. Molly gasped in shock and turned to Sherlock as he pulled out his phone, the caller was unknown, but he knew who it was going to be.

"Hello" Sherlock said calmly, tensing his fists.

"Thought you'd miss the sound of my voice Sherlock, so I thought I'd give you a call" Moriarty's mocking voice spoke back.

"I know what you're planning Moriarty" Sherlock said, trying to contain his overpowering anger.

"At last! I was beginning to worry that you had lost your talents" He replied with a fake, worried tone.

"What have you done with Bill Wiggins?" Sherlock said, losing his patience. Molly placed her hand on his shoulder, calming him a little.

"Oh Bill, Bill Wiggins? He's right here...but he's a little tied up at the moment..excuse the pun" He said, laughing at his own joke. Sherlock's hatred rising with every breath. "And don't try threatening me or say that 'I'll never get away with it'...because honey, you'd be wasting your breath because I already have" His tone was dark and malevolent. "Bill Wiggins_ will_ die and as will your little network. So no more clues, no more little games, no more victories. I'm sick of watching you dance, Sherlock...now it's time to watch you_ burn_"


	14. Chapter 14 - I See Fire (Part II)

_"I'm sick of watching you dance Sherlock...now I'm going to watch you __**burn**__"_

The phone went silent. Moriarty was gone. The moments that followed were filled with an eerie silence, it seemed that the city itself had contained its resonance.

"Something is about to happen" Sherlock muttered, listening, not knowing what would happen next. Molly stared up at him, uneasiness filling her at lightening speed. And then they heard it in the distance, a rumble, a quiet, malicious sound that made each of their hearts skip a beat in terror. Sherlock knew the sound the second it began. It was a bomb. The rumble quickly intensified to a loud bang that shook and woke the peaceful, sleeping city. Molly imagined families jumping from their beds in terror, children crying, panic filling the air. The sound was resonant and mischievous, echoing above their heads, Sherlock couldn't figure out it's source. It was definite that it was a building, quite close by, but it was hard to tell where. Sherlock knew that the only way to find the source was to get out of the woodland, passed the trees there's an almost panoramic view of London. As he turned to make his way out of the trees, Molly grabbed his shoulder forcefully. Sherlock's eyes pulled away from the trees to see what it was that was holding her back. As he turned, he heard a click, one of the men from the camp was holding out a browning pistol, aiming it right between his eyes. Sherlock noticed that quite a few of the homeless men were around them, each holding their guns, aiming at them. Molly's hand shook, still holding onto Sherlock's sleeve. Ed was beside her, his hand grabbing her shoulder forcefully, with his gun pointed at her head. She stared at Sherlock in complete fear, her eyes wide, filled with tears.

"Whats the meaning of this Ed?" Sherlock said, staring at Ed in agitation "What the hell are you doing?"

Ed stared at Sherlock, his expression calm and poised. He nodded at the other men, who lowered their guns slowly, staring at them cautiously. One of the men made his way over to one of the tents, where many of the other homeless people were lingering, staring at them and whispering amongst themselves. The man reached into one of the tents and was handed a small bag which he quickly opened, he reached in and pulled out a small cardboard box about the size of a large matchbox, which he proceeded to hand to Ed. Ed turned away from Molly, releasing her shoulder. She exhaled strongly and edged herself closer to Sherlock. After a moment, Ed turned back to them, holding the content of the box, which was a small syringe. Molly tensed up beside Sherlock, panting in terror as Ed made his way towards her holding out the syringe, which was full of transparent liquid Sherlock presumed it was some kind of sedative. He pulled Molly behind him protectively. Ed stopped in front of him, he nodded at the men again who pulled their guns up and aimed at their heads once more. Molly made a small whimper noise behind him, Sherlock put his hand behind him and she took it, her small hands shaking in fear.

"If you struggle Mr. Holmes...or try to run, we will shoot her" Ed said calmly. Tapping the syringe with his fingers. All the guns turned and aimed at Molly. Sherlock closed his eyes in terror and defeat.

"Sherlock..." Molly whispered from behind him, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Everything will be fine Molly" Sherlock said quietly as he felt a sudden cold pinch on his shoulder. "I love you"

"Sherlock..." Molly repeated. "I love you too..." Her voice echoing in his mind as he felt himself falling down deep into into unconsciousness.

Sherlock's eyes shot open. His body was limp, tired and unresponsive as the sedative was slowly wearing off, it took his eyes a few moments to focus but after a moment Sherlock recognized his surroundings; he was in his bedroom...in 221b. Sherlock lay there, feeling the warmth of the duvet and the pillows below him as his memory slowly restored.

"M-Molly" Sherlock mumbled in panic, his voice was hoarse and slow. "Molly!" He called frantically, his voice was embedded with pure panic now. He jumped up from his bed at lightning speed but upon landing on his weak legs, he fell down onto the floor, he grunted in frustration. "Molly!" He called again, hoping that she would run in and tell him that it had all been a dream..a nightmare..but she didn't, she was gone. A wave of defeat filled his body as he lay on the cold wooden floor, he began sobbing. "Molly" He whispered.

After a few minutes, Sherlock stopped sobbing and began to pull his body up once more, his legs had a little more strength as he used his bedpost to pull himself up, he sat down with a thud onto his bed. His feelings of defeat from a few minutes before were giving way to a stronger, more determined emotion, pure hatred. It was clear that Moriarty had turned his (Sherlock's) homeless network against him, recruiting them into his new criminal network over the past few weeks. Sherlock felt a cold sting of betrayal as he remembered Ed, holding the gun to them, with his eyes; cold and piercing. 'How many more has Moriarty recruited?' He thought to himself. 'How many more of my allies have become my enemies'

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone came to life, startling him. The sound was coming from within his hoodie pocket, he reached in a pulled out the phone, he was sure it would be Moriarty, but as he checked the caller ID, he was surprised to see that it was Lestrade.

"Lestrade" Sherlock said, pulling himself up slowly from his bed once more "I need your help"

"Yeah, I'd say you do Sherlock" Lestrade answered, his voice high pitched with panic. "Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?" Sherlock said, steadying himself on his bedpost again, his legs almost had their strength back.

"Moriarty, playing his little TV trick again" Lestrade answered. Sherlock slowly made his way into the living room to the TV. He picked up the remote and turned it on. Moriarty was standing in a dark room, looking at the camera with his usual patronizing smile, his gaze cold and destructive.

"Hullo, I'm the storyteller" He said callously. "Are you ready for the story?"

"Sherlock, you there?" Lestrade said through the phone, sounding anxious. Sherlock stared at the screen in horror.

"..This is the story of The Little Brown Mouse.."

"No" Sherlock muttered

"..The Little Brown Mouse was the quietest mouse in all the kingdom, she was so quiet that not even Sir Boast A-Lot could hear her. But as Sir Boast-a-lot got to know The Little Brown Mouse, he realized that she, in fact, _mattered_ to him. One day, Sir-Boast-a-lot needed help, because the evil Dragon was threatening to destroy the kingdom and all of Sir-Boast-a-lot's friends, but the Dragon didn't think about The Little Brown Mouse, no, he did not. He thought she didn't matter to Sir Boast-a-lot. Seeing this, Sir Boast-a-lot asked The Little Brown Mouse to help him defeat the Dragon, because she was so small and quiet and The Dragon wouldn't _see_ her. But the Dragon was wise, he managed to survive. And he knows now...he knows that he made a mistake, he knows now that The Little Brown Mouse is_ important_, she mattered. The Dragon felt very silly for making such a mistake but the Dragon will never make the same mistake twice."

The screen went black. Sherlock's eyes remained fixed to it. It suddenly started again;

"Hullo..I'm the storyteller.." Sherlock was panting frantically. He yelled in anger and flung the television aside, it fell down onto the floor making a ear-bursting crash.

"Sherlock, what's he on about?!" Lestrade said after a moment, dread in his voice.

"He's got Molly!" Sherlock shouted, enraged. Lestrade was silent for a minute.

"I'm on my way, we're going to find her Sherlock, together" Lestrade said calmly, reassuringly before he hung up.

Sherlock stood looking down at the broken television for a moment, his hands were shaking at his side in resentment.

'I'm going to kill him, I'm going to feel his life slipping from him, so that he can never come back again' Sherlock thought to himself.

There was a sudden thump on the door downstairs, Sherlock lifted his head in curiosity. The first thing he thought of was Molly, 'Could it be?..No..' He thought. Sherlock paced out of the living room and began to decent down the stairs slowly, wondering who it could be. 'Moriarty?' He thought, stopping on the final step, wondering if he should open the door. He strode over to the door, trying to make as little noise as possible. He placed his hand on the doorknob and breathed before opening it.

Suddenly, a man fell in, he must have been leaning on the door for support as he waited. Sherlock took a step back in shock, staring down at the figure sprawled on the floor, he was panting. Suddenly, Sherlock realized who it was;

"Bill?" Sherlock asked quietly, standing still, looking down at him in disbelief. He wanted to bend down and help him, but he stopped himself, remembering Ed, the man who he trusted, holding a gun to his head.

"Sherlock" Bill croaked, pain in his voice.

"Tell me the truth Bill, please..." Sherlock said sternly, staring down at his friend..holding down his feelings of concern and pity, trying to sound calm.

"Please..trust me Sherlock..I know where he is...I know" Bill said with desperation, clutching his side, looking up at Sherlock, his expression full of agony.

"No...No!" Sherlock shouted in anger, his emotions dueling within his mind. "Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying Sherlock... please... I know where he has ..M-Molly" Bill pleaded, looking up at Sherlock in desperation. "I would never betray you Sherlock...please you have to.. t-trust me" Sherlock was silent for a moment, staring down at his friend.

"Where are you hurt?" Sherlock said, kneeling down at Bill's side "Let me call an ambulance"

"No, no...please..S-Sherlock...listen. He has Molly at The Embankment..there's a secret hideout underground..." He said before grunting in pain, clutching his side. Sherlock nodded, truly grateful for the information.  
"You may be aware..that Moriarty has bombed...W-Westminster Bridge...last night" Bill took a moment to catch a breath. "But..that was just the first..of two...the next is The Embankment.." He said, panting, staring at Sherlock in pain. Sherlock stared at him in horror.

"Molly" Sherlock gasped, Bill nodded.

"It's ...going to go off..in an hour" Bill managed to say, before falling head first onto the ground.

"Bill!" Sherlock said in panic, grabbing him and turning him around slowly so that he was facing upwards "Please, let me go and call an ambulance"

Bill couldn't speak, he shook his head slightly. Sherlock noticed that he had become extremely pale and blood was spurting out from under his grey hoodie.

"What happened to you Bill?" Sherlock whispered, holding Bill's body. He was still breathing, his eyes half open staring up at Sherlock.

"Please...trust me..." Bill muttered, quietly.

"I do Bill" Sherlock said, tears filling his eyes, gently rocking Bill's body back and forth as he took his final breaths.

(((AUTHORS NOTE: I'm so sorry...guys..truly I am. :( Ohhh.. so this is what Moffat feels like )))

((Hope you enjoyed this chapter ! More drama to come.))

((I based Moriarty's 'Little Brown Mouse' Story on Mycroft's reference to Sherlock being a Dragon Slayer in HIS LAST VOW))


	15. Chapter 15 - Little Brown Mouse

'I love you'

Sherlock's voice echoed in her head, moving away from her slowly…leaving her all alone. Molly's eyes shot open and were welcomed by blinding darkness. Molly groaned to herself, she was lying on the ground, a cold metallic surface, freezing to touch. She used her weak arms to pull herself up into a slouched sitting position. Her head was throbbing against her skull; she slowly lifted her hand unsteadily and began to massage it gently. It didn't help. Molly tried to remember what had just happened and slowly the memory began to distil in her mind, disorderly and foggy. She remembered Ed holding the syringe…the homeless people watching and waiting…she remembered her horror when they plunged the needle into Sherlock's shoulder and how he slowly faded away, falling to the ground. Molly shook her head, which only further increased her migraine as tears began to fill her eyes. She sat there for a while, in the lonely darkness with tears rolling down her cheeks and hitting the metal floor with a light 'clang'.

'And then they took me...' Molly thought, trying to remember what happened next, but her memory had gone completely blank. She sighed in fear as she wondered where she was and what was planned for her. She knew Moriarty was behind it; he had corrupted Sherlock's Homeless Network and turned them against him. Molly feared Moriarty immensely, but her hatred grew deeper and she knew that if he had done anything to harm Sherlock Holmes…. Her thought was abruptly interrupted as she heard a metal click, a door was opening. She stared out into the darkness in horror following the beam of light that was slowly filling the room. The door was at the far side of the small room, there was a figure standing in the doorway… it took her eyes a second to adjust, the figure was now walking towards her...filling her field of vision, she heard the footsteps echo around the small, cold room.

"We've never met, Miss Hooper… or can I call you Molly? It seems much more informal?" The voice piped up, Molly didn't recognise the voice or the man it belonged to. He was tall, staring down at her with cold grey eyes. His short brown hair fell just above his ears with a small fringe that danced over his eyes as he spoke. Molly stared up at him in fear and confusion, her pulse speeding and her breath panting. He smiled, a sly, attractive grin not taking his eyes off Molly.

"I should introduce myself, my name is Moran, Sebastian Moran" The man said after a moment of silence. Molly's eyes filled with realization, she edged back against the wall staring at him, trying to contain the terror that was building within her.

"Cat got your tongue, little mouse?" Moran said, patronisingly. His sly grin widening to show his glowing white teeth. "Get up!" He suddenly snapped, pulling Molly up by her hoodie. She yelped in surprise and pain as he pushed her against the wall forcefully. He stared at her, the way a wild animal would stare at its prey, seconds before pouncing.

"I must say Molly, it is an absolute pleasure to see you again" Came a voice from the door, Moran let go of her hoodie and slowly backed away, his grey, cold eyes still staring poisonously at her. Molly looked away from him to the source of the voice, she knew who it was the second he uttered his first syllable. She stared at Moriarty with detestation, holding her hands together to stop them shaking. She didn't want to act like a mouse.

"What do you want with me Moriarty?!" Molly said, after a second of plucking up her courage. Her voice was strong and intense, it resounded off the metal walls before leaving a surprised expression on Moriarty's face. After a moment he smiled and began to laugh, his patronising, cruel laugh, full of mockery. Moran joined but only for a second, before proceeding to violently shove Molly up against the wall at lightning speed, her back pounded against the metal wall, causing a shot of pain down her spine. She shrieked in pain as Moran's hands clutched into her shoulders, tightening his grip. His expression was malicious and fierce, his cold eyes wide and wild.

"That's enough Seb" Moriarty finally said after a few seconds, no urgency in his voice. Moran let go of Molly suddenly, causing her to fall to the floor, her shoulders and back throbbing in overwhelming pain. All she could think of was Sherlock.

"Where is he?" Molly said, through sobs and tears, anger filling her voice. Moriarty stared down at her in false compassion before walking forward and kneeling at her side. His face only centimetres from hers, Molly fought the urge to look away and pull back in fear. 'I am not a mouse' she thought to herself in weak encouragement. Moriarty's face was wrought with distorted empathy, his smile had faded and his eyes were piercing.

"You're the one person who mattered" He said quietly, his expression contemplating. He stared at her for a moment, a long moment and unease began to fill her body. She began to tremble and looked away from him. "The one person who matters most to him. How very…what's the word? Touching" He smiled again with mocking compassion. He stared at her another moment, Molly couldn't meet his gaze. "Don't quiver little mouse" He touched her face, she pushed herself against the wall, her back felt like it was on fire. She stared at him, repelled in disgust. "It will all be over soon." He whispered, stroking her cheek. He stood up and made his way to Moran, Molly slumped against the wall, sighing in fear and relief. Moriarty whispered something to Moran, so quiet that Molly couldn't hear the words exchanged. He then turned back to her with more false compassion etched into his features.

"He said he loved you" Moriarty said, staring down at her for a moment, a slight smile began to grow at the corners of his mouth, it disgusted her. "I made a promise, Molly, two years ago to Sherlock Holmes, a promise that I intend to keep" He turned to Moran, his grin widening. "It seems that Sherlock does have a heart after all. Now it's time to _burn_ it"

Molly stared up at the man of her nightmares, fear filling her from head to toe. He looked back at her for a moment, there was an expression there, not something forced or faked; regret? Suddenly, he turned, taking his gaze off Molly and walked from the room. Moran watched him leave before turning back to her. She moved her gaze to him as he began to make his way towards her; he was wearing a cold, evilly playful expression of excitement; like a hungry cat about to catch a mouse.


	16. Chapter 16 - Countdown

About ten minutes had past since Bill had died, Sherlock had placed the body in Mrs Hudson's flat, until he had the time to get him taken to a morgue. Even thinking of morgues made Sherlock ache for his pathologist. Sherlock made his way up to his flat, managing to calm his nerves a fraction, forcing himself to think clearly and rationally about the whole situation. Bill had told him that Molly was being held by Moriarty in a hideout under The Embankment, Sherlock knew that she was undoubtedly in great danger. He began pacing the living room, his hands and legs shaking slightly with a revolting mixture of fear, worry and dread. 'Molly' he kept whispering, apologetically under his breath.'Molly' Suddenly, Sherlock heard the front door open and listened as someone bounded their way up the staircase. A few moments later, Greg Lestrade filled the entrance to the livingroom, panting and staring at him with an expression of panic and anxiety.

"Sherlock" He panted, staring at Sherlock; he had never seen him so terrified in his life. "You alright?"

Sherlock's expression suddenly reciprocated, the fear that was written over his face had now completely distorted, all Lestrade saw now was determination. His mask was back on. Lestrade watched him curiously as quickly turned and grabbed his coat, flinging it over his shoulders and tying his scarf hurriedly.

"She's at The Embankment" Sherlock said, avoiding eye-contact as he glided past Lestrade, running down the stairs.

Sally Donovan glanced in surprise as Sherlock sat into the back seat of the police car, Sherlock Holmes had always insisted on getting a cab rather than hitch a lift, but she knew the circumstances, Greg had explained the situation to her as they made their way to Baker Street and she had to admit; she was concerned. She nodded at him as he caught her gaze in the front mirror, he nodded back. Lestrade hopped in a second later. Sherlock was silent for the first few minutes, staring at his watch and exhaling nervous breaths silently. He now had forty minutes to save Molly Hooper... 'And what if you don't save Molly Hooper...?' The cold voice of question came into his mind, forcing him to imagine what it would be like..being too late; watching The Embankment erupt, filling the London's dark night sky with golden flames ...and not being able to save her.

Sherlock shook the thought out of his head, that would not happen..he would save her, even if that meant that he might not save himself...

"So what's the plan?" Lestrade piped up, shaking Sherlock out of his troubled thoughts. Sally looked back at him expectantly, but with a warmth he had never seen in her before. "Tell us what you need" She said, quietly, sincerely.

"There's a bomb" Sherlock said quietly, watching Sally's face drop, she nodded.

"Where?" She said with a strong voice, picking up the two-way radio that was placed in the dashboard of the car.

"The Embankment..a source, a reliable source has informed me that the bomb is set to go off at twelve am" Sherlock said, watching as Sally repeated the information through the radio.

"Send back up immediately" Sally said through the radio before turing back to Sherlock "And Molly's in there?"

"Yes" Sherlock muttered, only barely concealing the sound of terror in his voice. Sally nodded, her face was tense and her eyes were darting as she tried to put her head around the whole situation.

"And Moriarty is definitely back?"

"Definitely" Sherlock said, losing patience. They were still about five minutes away from The Embankment and although the police siren was allowing them to fly through the thick London traffic with almost no hesitation, Sherlock still felt that they were traveling at a snail's pace.

"Where in The Embankment? There are quite a few buildings there..?"

"I don't know!" Sherlock burst, panic in his ringing voice. "Somewhere underground..secret.."

Sally opened the front glove compartment and took out a fold up map of the city. Sherlock watched as she opened it and traced it with her finger, finding The Embankment after a few moments.

"Alright here it is..Victoria Embankment" She said "Kings College is here..it goes down a bit..for about a mile or so..it ends here.." She said holding up the map "at the Little Brown Book Shop..."

Sherlock sat up rigid before leaping forward and grabbing the map out of Sally's fingers, making her gasp in shock. "Sound familiar?" She said hopefully as Sherlock looked down at the map.

_"Let me tell you the story of the.."_

"Little Brown Mouse" Sherlock proclaimed, relief flooding his body. He checked his watch, he had half an hour.

"What?" Lestrade asked, confused but hopeful. "I know where she is"

Sherlock couldn't contain a small smile as he watched Lestrade and Sally sigh quietly in relief. As the police car arrived at Bookshop a few minutes later, it was quite an old looking building, with gray, cold stone and long shop looked long out of business, with an old faded sign and a few broken windows. Sherlock stared up at it coldly with a cold sense of foreboding. Sally turned to Sherlock, about to speak;

"I'm going in alone" Sherlock said sternly, still looking up at the building. Sally looked back at him harshly.

"What about the bomb? There could be other people in there Freak. We need to start evacuations.."

Suddenly, as Sally was speaking, there came a humming, static from the previously silent two-way radio, the sound was eerie and rhythmic. They stared at it in confusion for a moment before Sally leant forward and picked it up.

"Hello...Hello. Is anyone trying to make contact?" The static continued as she released the push-to-talk button, but this time it was louder and more malevolent.

"I think its broken" Lestrade said, but was interrupted; "S-Sherlock..." Molly's rasping, terrified voice filled the car;

"Sherlock m-must come i-in alone" Sherlock stared at the two-way radio in horror.

"Molly!" He yelled, pushing himself further into the front of the car. "MOLLY! Don't worry...I'm coming for you..do you hear me? I will save you!" Tears were filling his eyes, but he forced them back. Molly was silent, Sherlock began to panic "Molly!"

The radio went silent once more. The static had stopped and the only sound in the car was Sherlock's petrified panting. After a moment, Sally turned to Sherlock, concern written all over her face.

"Sherlock.." She was shocked that she called him that, not 'Freak' "Are you alrigh-"

But before Sally could finish her sentence the radio buzzed once more, Sherlock sat forward, listening...waiting fearfully for Molly's voice. But he was met by another's;

"Hickory, Dickory Dock"

Moriarty sang quietly, childishly;

"The mouse ran up the clock

The clock strikes twelve..

say your farewell..

Hickory

Dickory

Dock"


	17. Chapter 17 - Moriarty's Clue

'You must come in alone'

Sherlock couldn't get her voice out of his head, her terrified voice; it sounded nothing like the Molly he knew, her strength seemed deflated, her voice so quiet and hopeless.

Sherlock stepped out of the police car, Donovan and Lestrade watched from the inside, feeling inoperative as they watched him make his way to the cold, grey building, each both trying to conceal their growing dread and worry for the approaching events. Moriarty was back and he was dangerous, equipped with a bomb and a hostage and all they could do was sit back and wait.

As Sherlock dashed towards the large, decrepit doorway of The Brown Mouse, Sherlock knew that there was no going back now, not that he would. Molly was in there, that he was certain, captive and terrified in the extensive underground hideout, with the most treacherous man he had ever met. Sherlock put his hand on the rusty metal door handle and pushed it open with fierce effort. He took a look back to the police car, even at a distance he could tell that they were looking back at him. After a moment, he turned and made his way into the old bookshop. The inside of the building was just as grand and ancient as its exterior; a large marble floor stretched out covered in hundreds of tall, empty bookshelves, reaching up to the marble ceiling. It was an eerie place, dark and foreboding, with not one book in sight. As Sherlock made his way through the narrow paths between the shelves, all he could think about was Molly, his pathologist, the one woman who mattered and will always matter. The one woman he loved. The woman who he will save.

'Moriarty' Sherlock breathed, his utter hatred welling up inside him with such force that he thought he would not be able to contain it, but he knew that he must, for Molly's sake, keep himself calm. The only way to save her was to keep himself focused.

_ "I said, focus!"_

Sherlock felt the remnant of Molly's slap on his cheek. He knew she was right, she was always right. On the other side of the large room was a large, wooden double door. Sherlock made his way through it, checking his watch as he did so, it read 11:37, leaving 23 minutes to find Molly. On the other side of the door was a wide, old fashioned staircase with a sculpted banner. Frustration filled Sherlock as he realized that it wasn't leading the direction he was hoping, to follow it would lead up to the second floor, not below. Sherlock grunted in annoyance as he turned around to head back out the wooden double doors, but as he did so he noticed another, smaller wooden door on his left, between the staircase and the doors. He leaped at it, hopeful and turned the small brass nob; inside was a smaller, dark, narrow stairwell leading down into blackness. Sherlock stared down at it dauntlessly, with a hooked determination. Molly was down there and so was Moriarty, it was time to end this. As Sherlock made his way down the dark stairway as quickly as he could, feeling the walls with his fingertips and trying to remain balanced, a feeling of cold dread began to ferment within him; what if? What if Molly wasn't here? What if the bomb wasn't here? What if he came to the wrong place? What if finding the Brown Mouse Bookshop was just a coincidence? No…

'No, Sherlock' He thought 'it's too late to be asking these questions...focus'

Sherlock was shocked at the disorganization of his mind and the fear that was now consuming it. He reached the last step and was met by a small gleaming light in the distance, down a narrow hallway with stone walls. The light beckoned him onwards, but he was wary, he prepared himself for what he may find next. Sherlock was very relieved as he remembered that he still had John's gun fastened in the back of his trousers, he took it out swiftly and held it out in front of himself, comforted by the protection. As he approached the light, which was coming from an electric lamp, he turned down into another hallway, with another lamp hanging at the end of it in front of a large, grey metal door; Sherlock made his way to it, still holding out the gun. When he reached the door, he checked his watch using the light of the electric lamp to illuminate it, it was 11:40. Sherlock attempted to contain his growing panic, his love for Molly giving him strength that he never knew he had. He turned the knob and opened the metal door; he was met by a blinding white light that forced him to cover his eyes briefly to recover from the sudden brightness. As his eyes refocused, he knew that he had found Moriarty's hideout, the small, confined room had cold, metal walls which were covered in computer and television monitors, Sherlock noticed that some of the screens were monitoring 221b, one had security footage outside the flat, he could see the exterior of Speedy's café and the door of the flat, another screen showed the exterior of St Barts…and another of the morgue, Molly's morgue. 'He had been spying on us all this time' Sherlock thought.

"Glad you could make it" Came a voice from behind him, he turned around to face Moriarty, holding up the gun. "Oh my, Sherlock, why is it that every time we meet you're pointing a gun at me?" He cooed.

"Where is Molly" Sherlock demanded, staring at Moriarty in the eye, unfaltering and stern, Moriarty stared back coldly, his grey eyes piercing and still.

"Where is she!?"Sherlock shouted, losing his patience. Suddenly Sherlock felt something cold on the back of his neck, he heard the familiar click of the hammer of the gun, cocked and ready to fire.

"I would put that gun down if I were you" Came a deep voice from behind him which he didn't recognize. Sherlock held the gun up for a split second more, he would have shot, even if he was killed for it, he would have…if Molly wasn't in danger. He lowered the gun and dropped it on the metal floor with a loud clank. Moriarty stepped forward and kicked it off to the far end of the room, he then nodded at the man behind Sherlock who proceeded to lower his own gun.

"This is Sebastian Moran…by the way Sherlock, I don't believe you've met" Moriarty said with false politeness, like they were being introduced in a social gathering. Sherlock didn't care much for meeting new people.

"Where is she?" Sherlock asked again quietly but just as fierce. "Please" he whispered. Moriarty stared at Sherlock for a moment before starting to laugh quietly; he turned away so that his back was to Sherlock and began to laugh louder and louder until the sound echoed around the room.

"What!?" Sherlock yelled but Moriarty was still laughing…his laugh was so malevolent and smug that Sherlock attempted to lunge at him but was forcefully pulled back by Moran who then punched him in the stomach, as Sherlock fell back in pain, Moran held up the gun again and aimed it down at him. Moriarty had seemed not to notice the outburst, his back was still facing them and his shoulders were dancing with his laughter. After a few moments, the laughing slowly ceased.

"You wouldn't believe how easy it was Sherlock…to dismantle your network, the homeless are just so easily manipulated" He said, turning back to Sherlock, tears of laughter in his eyes, his stare unnerving and austere. "Not too much loyalty" He walked closer to Sherlock and stared down at him with false compassion. "Except for one, he was a cracker he was…Bill Wiggins…" Sherlock looked up at Moriarty in pure hatred as he mentioned Bill. "He was your friend, he held his ground and yours too, just wouldn't surrender, wouldn't betray you" Moriarty shook his head and made a 'tut tut' noise. "So I came up with this fabulous plan Sherlock, you'll love this! What about if Bill Wiggins betrays Sherlock but doesn't even know he's doing it!" He laughed again, the same malicious laugh, Sherlock stared up at him in confusion. "So I thought…how about we plant…an idea…in his head" Moriarty said quietly bending down and tapping his index finger lightly on Sherlock's temple.

"No" Sherlock breathed, realization filling him like lightening, Moriarty stood up again looking down at Sherlock with a cold, cruel smile.

"It wasn't that difficult…all it took was a few hushed conversations outside his cell door giving him information regarding a bomb and a location…and mentioning Molly Hooper a few times…And once the message was received load and clear… oh look who forgot to lock your cell door Billy…you could so easily escape!...Course Seb here couldn't resist playing sniper as he ran off into the sunset" Moriarty laughed evilly. Sherlock was silent for a moment.

"She's not here…" Sherlock whispered, looking at the ground in defeat "There is no bomb"

"Half right. Yes, she's not here" Moriarty said before kneeling down beside him once more and leaning in towards his ear "But there is a bomb…but we're safe here don't you worry"

"MOLLY!" Sherlock yelled as he attempted to get up off the cold metal floor but was met by a hard thump on his shoulder, Moran had hit him forcefully with the gun handle resulting in him falling back onto the metal floor with a thump.

"No" He said, pain filling his voice.

"15 minutes Sherlock!" Moriarty said with excitement looking at his watch. "But I must admit I did break one of the rules of our new game" He said in a quiet false guilty voice. "Don't you remember? I said I wasn't going to give you any clues" Sherlock stared back at him in confusion. "You seriously didn't notice?!" Moriarty laughed "It was sooo obvious! You're slipping Sherlock" Sherlock racked his brain in annoyance trying to remember what clue Moriarty had given him…what did he miss! His panic was rising hopelessly as he imagined Molly waiting for him to save her. Moriarty was still kneeling down, staring at him with entertainment, watching him rattle his brains for the clue.

"Oh I do love to watch you dance" He said with a giggle. "Maybe this will help you remember;

Hickory, Dickory dock…

the mouse ran up**_ the clock_ **…

the clock strikes twelve,

say your farewells.

Hickory, Dickory dock"

Sherlock gasped in realization at his stupidity. Molly was inside…

"Big Ben" He breathed, watching Moriarty fall back in convulsions of laughter once more.


End file.
